I'll Have That Drink Now
by KismetJeska
Summary: Jim Moriarty, Loki Laufeyson, the Master. With three egos that big plus a slightly bitter gunman sharing one London flat, things can get... interesting. Honestly, their arch-rivals teaming up- with two hunters and an angel to boot- is the least of their worries. A series of instalments with crossovers everywhere and a good dollop of utter crack.
1. At War With Bitchy Schoolgirls

**A/N- I offer no explanations or apologies. This is basically going to be a vaguely linear collection of utter crack based on my favourite villains coming together. There are a few AU bits- from Doctor Who in particular- but they're stated in the fic. There probably won't be any clear pairings, but there'll be a lot of preslash/ Ho Yay because that's how I roll. I hope you enjoy reading it anywhere near as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

* * *

Jim had had such high hopes.

After Sherlock's little trip off the roof (even if the asshole somehow managed to take a detour and miss the ground), things had been dull. Painfully dull. Jim was used to lying low, but he had been forced to take it to new extremes: after all, the world thought that he had put a bullet through his head. It would not do to be seen walking around. He had been alright, though. The knowledge that he had won was more than enough to keep him content.

But then Sherlock's pet managed to finally get his name cleared, and Sherlock went from a rightfully punished villain to a martyr so fast it made Jim's head spin. John refused to discuss their personal life and disappeared from public attention straight after Sherlock was declared innocent, but the damage was already done. Suddenly the papers were full of articles proclaiming Sherlock's innocence and debunking Richard Brook. Fan sites bloomed and tripled overnight. 221B Baker Street became something of a shrine.

But even that had been okay. Yes, it had made Jim _very _angry, and one or two people had died as a result, but he could just about cope with it. After all, he had still won. He had gotten what he wanted- Sherlock dead, John broken, story over. Media attention began to die down and the Holmes tragedy was almost left behind, when who reappeared but the man himself?

A few more people had died after that. Two or three. Or ten. Jim lost count.

All the fuss over Sherlock's return grated at Jim, day in and day out. He had faked his own death too, after all- he just hadn't been as damn brazen as to flaunt it afterwards. Admittedly neither Sherlock or John would talk to the press, and the detective seemed nothing other than irritated at the extra attention, but that wasn't the point. The point was that people thought that _Sherlock Holmes had beat him._

Luckily Jim had managed to get a hold of himself- his first instinct had been to move into the spotlight himself, with the use of more bombs and possibly more children- and had opted to remain in the shadows. It was the best thing he could do. He would remain hidden, build his empire and re-establish his name as one to be feared and respected. He had brought down Sherlock Holmes once; he could do so again.

Or at least, that had been the plan. With the shouts and crashes still sounding behind him nearly forty minutes after they had started, Jim put his head on the desk and sighed heavily. Where had things gone so wrong?

Retrospectively, it was probably down to his much-regretted agreement to form alliances_. I might be the devil, but hell is other people._

* * *

It had all started exactly four months after Sherlock's reappearance, when the media frenzy was finally beginning to die down. James Moriarty had been doing some very important business for a very important client- drugs trade, nothing particularly interesting- when said client had died halfway through a phone call. Loudly, agonisingly. Jim sat at the other end and waited patiently. After a few minutes, somebody else picked up the mobile, their breathing heavy.

"I don't think your friend is coming back," the new voice eventually said, deep but almost childlike in its delight.

"That man was going to pay me a lot of money very soon," Jim said calmly, "and now he can't. Can you see why that might upset me a little?"

"I can't see why I should care."

Jim chuckled down the phone. "Oh, you're a funny one. But I don't think that you want to make me angry."

"I've heard that threat before- and trust me when I say that its speaker had significantly more anger management issues," the voice replied. "Go back to your dolls, little one. Don't play with things you can't understand."

The man hung up, and Jim smiled into the dial tone. "I think I've made a friend," he murmured out loud.

* * *

For once, Jim was glad that Sherlock was around. The detective had soon gotten drafted into the mysterious case of the man brutally murdered halfway through a telephone call, and had really done most of the hard work for him. It was child's play to tap phones, and soon Jim was listening to a purely delightful feed.

"You're looking for a man named Loki Laufeyson," Sherlock was saying. Jim took notes on the back of an old envelope, doodling smiley faces whenever there was a pause in information. "Yes, _that _Loki Laufeyson."

"It's impossible, Sherlock," Lestrade said tiredly on the other end. "I know people on the New York team who dealt with the Laufeyson case. Loki was removed back to Asgard to be punished there. There's no way he could have gotten back."

"Well, clearly he did," Sherlock said, sounding annoyed as always, "otherwise he wouldn't currently be committing murders in London."

"Can you be sure it's him?"

"I've never been wrong yet, and I have no intentions of beginning now." Jim rolled his eyes at that. Big show off. "It's Loki alright, and a lot of people are in a lot of danger unless he is stopped."

Jim had stopped paying attention by that point. He was already on his laptop, fingers flying over the keys. '_Loki Laufeyson' _brought him a wide array of web results. Torture, death, murder, deceit, trickery… it read like pornography to Jim.

(Of course, there was a significant amount of that too- apparently teenage girls felt strongly attracted to sexualised serial killers. Jim wondered where he could get a following like that.)

Jim remembered Loki's near destruction of New York, obviously. How could anybody forget it? It had changed the very way the world worked. He had taken mild interest in the group named the Avengers, but they were miles away and nothing to do with him. He would start caring when an Asgardian demi-god put a hammer through his own front door, and no sooner.

Jim hadn't paid any attention to Loki at all- he had been defeated, and Jim had no time for failures. But if Loki had managed to escape and return for round two, perhaps he was more notable than Jim had thought. Besides, he wasn't beyond giving a person second chances.

Jim Moriarty was not a man that 'did' companionship. The closest he had ever gotten was Sebastian, who still thought he was dead. Hell, maybe Seb himself was dead. Jim didn't know. It didn't really matter.

What mattered was that there was somebody new on the scene, killing people and blowing things up, and that really wouldn't do. London belonged to Jim. He would be having a word with Mr Laufeyson, and things would go one of two ways. Either they would fight each other, or they would fight together. Jim didn't know which possibility excited him more.

* * *

It took him a fair amount of effort track Loki down, but a web remains long after the spider dies. Jim had enough people left in enough places to narrow down Loki's position within days. The much anticipated meeting actually occurred in an alleyway, of all places.

"Nice helmet," he said, leaning against the wall. The man (was he a man?) turned around slowly, armour flickering away from his body as he did so. He was still ridiculously overdressed- all tight leather and boots- but Jim could hardly condemn a tendency towards exhibition. Greeting the police draped in the crown jewels had somewhat dampened his right to judgement.

"I spoke to you on the phone, didn't I?" Loki said directly.

"You remember me," Jim grinned. "That's always good for the self-esteem."

"Why are you here?" Loki asked, curling his hand a little tighter around the sceptre. "People usually tend to run _from _me. Not the other way around."

"How did you even get that back?" Jim asked, nodding to the weapon. Loki smiled tightly.

"I have ways of getting what I want."

"Killing a bunch of people?"

"That's one of them, yes."

"Ahh, lovely."

"Why are you here?" Loki repeated.

"Do you mind if I hold the big stick?"

Loki laughed in derision. "Mortals. You're all such _idiots_. This sceptre holds power beyond your wildest imagination."

"I don't know about that. I dreamt about a talking wolverine wearing ballet shoes last night. My imagination is pretty wild."

"I'll make this simple for you. You can either tell me what it is that you're after, or I can make you beg for death." Loki smiled and shrugged, in a 'what can you do?' kind of way. "Your choice."

"Kinky." Jim raised an eyebrow. "I'll go with option one, though, I'm short on time. The fact is that I'm a very intelligent man who gets bored very easily, and you seem like you could be fun."

"I doubt you would like my method of play."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure. Tell me- what's the name of that group of misfits your brother bunks with again?" Loki's face grew dark.

"Don't speak to me of the Avengers."

"Oh, right, _them_. Well, my thinking is that if they get to have their own special little group, why can't we? Sure, it's fun to be an independent megalomaniac- but it's also fun to win. And there's power in numbers, Loki. There is."

"Who are you to believe you could compete with me?" Loki jeered. "Who are you to believe that you have the right to fight alongside me? I am a god, earth man."

"And honey, I'm a king." Jim moved closer, close enough to stare directly into Loki's eyes. He looked far too fresh-faced to be a serial killer. Jim was beginning to doubt what he had heard. Murders, mass slaughter, invasions- perhaps Loki wasn't the monster Jim had hoped for.

"We could build a kingdom and watch it burn," Jim breathed.

The light that lit up Loki's face reassured him.

* * *

It hadn't been until they'd acquired the Master that they decided to get a place of their own.

"Headquarters," Loki insisted on calling it. "We need a place to use as our headquarters. We can't keep conducting our business from alleyways and warehouses. It is not befitting."

"In case you hadn't noticed, people don't approve of what we do," the Master had grumbled. "They won't offer me a palace because I nearly destroyed the universe."

"Taking on the whole universe," Jim had mused. "There really is something very sexy about that."

"Hey, I tried to destroy the universe too," Loki whined.

"Yes, but you wear a stupid hat," the Master explained patiently. They had fought over that for nearly ten minutes, and Jim had wondered when and _why_ he picked bitchy schoolgirls as his allies.

Neither he nor Loki had heard of the Master until they met him calmly beating a man to death on a street corner. He had had his reasons, but Jim didn't care enough to ask about them. The Master talked of decimation, torture, slaughter. He explained that he had done great and terrible things- the only catch was that time had been rewound, so nobody remembered them.

Jim had been understandably sceptical of that.

The Master had, in return, pointed out that a creature from the other side of the own universe was stood by their side, after having been stopped by a group of genuine superheroes (Loki had scowled at that)- so did plausibility really play a role in things?

"Oh, and I'm an alien too," he had added. "Should I have mentioned that first?"

The Master had two hearts and a habit of complaining about drumming that nobody else could hear. He also had a charming smile and wore nice suits. Jim approved.

"So who stopped you destroying the universe, then?" Jim had asked him conversationally. "Who was rude enough to undo all that hard work?"

"There's a man- well, I say a man- named the Doctor. Have you heard of him?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Lucky. You really wouldn't like him."

"Does he get in the way a lot?"

"Oh, God, all the _time_. You can't begin to imagine how annoying it is."

"I've had my own share of interfering doctors, don't worry. I strapped a bomb to one once."

"A bomb? How very pedestrian of you."

"I thought it was pretty good. What did you do then, Mr. Big Shot, to get rid of _your _doctor?"

"I recruited an alien race to kill 10% of the world's population."

"I tried that," Loki chimed in. "It doesn't work as well as you might hope."

"Tell me about it," the Master said emphatically. "It was _such _a let-down."

"It was all their fault, of course."

"Of course," the Master agreed. Jim was beginning to feel a little inadequate.

"So why are you in London?" Jim had asked. "I hate to point it out-"

"No, you don't."

"Okay, no I don't. But I'm the only person in this little trio that is actually from this planet."

"You're boring," the Master said sympathetically.

"So go on, then. How did you avoid the Doctor capturing you?" Loki asked curiously, turning back to the Master.

"Me? Oh, I died. It was a bit of a pain, but it pissed him off wonderfully. There was crying and everything."

"So you risked your own life and faked your death just to annoy somebody?" Jim had asked, feigning awe.

"Yup," he had beamed.

"Done it," Loki said in a bored voice.

"Done it," Jim echoed.

"Well, I didn't _really_ fake mine," the Master argued, recovering quickly. "I didn't know I'd be brought back. Some crazed disciple-"

"Oh, I despise those," Loki frowned.

"I know, right? There's apparently a whole cult who worship me."

"I seem to have fans as well- mostly female. I have seen far too many drawings of myself in compromising positions to-"

"Yes, okay," Jim said, annoyed. "What did this crazed disciple do?"

"Somebody's jealous," the Master grinned. Jim scowled. "She brought me back to life. My wife tried interfering, but they stopped her in time. Since then I've just been roaming around, trying to decide what to do with this version of events. Same playground, different kiddies."

"Kiddies?" Jim had asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm a bit older than I look. You're all children to me."

"I'm over a thousand years old," Loki said dryly.

"Really? Me too. People stop buying you cards after a certain stage," the Master lamented.

"Yes, okay, I get it," Jim interrupted. Aliens, he could accept. Aliens _mocking _him, he could not. "You're both ancient and all-powerful. There's one thing that I have over both of you, though."

"Go on," the Master said, quirking his lip.

"I'm mortal. I've gotten where I am through charisma and charm. I broke in, took the crown jewels, got myself arrested and walked free purely to cast doubt on another man. You've accomplished things, yes- but they've taken centuries and centuries of hard work and capture and toiling. I had the entire of London under my rule, without superhuman weapons or skills, in less than five years." He paused to let it all sink in. "_And _I look good in a suit."

"Well, I do that too," the Master said.

"Suits are for mortals," Loki said dismissively.

"What, and horns are a sign of true power?" the Master had said in disbelief. It turned out that psychopathic mass murderers could put up with many things, but insulting their outfit was a step too far. That had been the end of Loki and the Master's quickly forming rapport, to which Jim had no complaints. Team spirit was excellent, but not when it excluded him.

* * *

Fast forward two weeks, and they found themselves more or less _apartment-hunting. _It really was fabulously domestic- not that that meant it was simple. Jim couldn't still be out in public for too long due to the whole 'dead super-villain' act he was maintaining. Loki was obviously useless as he was probably the most notorious all of them, even without the extra fear and caution generated by Sherlock's recent deductions.

Jim had been banking on the Master to be their public face, but he refused to interact too heavily with people in case they remembered him from his 'Harold Saxon days'. He was insulted to discover that neither Jim nor Loki knew what this meant. Loki had no idea what a prime minister was, and Jim paid no attention to politics; it didn't much matter to him which idiot was pretending to be in power at any given time.

"Thank God for the internet," Jim muttered as they scrolled through listings on his laptop.

"The internet," the Master said approvingly. "Where nobody knows if you're a psychopath, an alien, or a stupid little man in a goat costume."

"One day, when you're sleeping, I will tear the very lungs from your body and laugh as you slowly suffocate on your own wretchedness."

"Thanks, Loki. Actually, I'm dying for a cup of tea- would you mind?"

"Yes. I rather would, actually."

"Me too, if you're making one," Jim said, hitting 'next'.

"You will all suffer."

"Love you too, darling. Here, what do you think of this one?" he said, gesturing at the screen.

"It's hardly low key," the Master frowned. "And no, I wasn't referring to you," he said over his shoulder. "Sorry if that confused your little Asgardian brain."

"It's quite alright. I stopped listening when you started talking," Loki replied, leaning in to see the listing. "It seems nice."

"Don't pretend like you want to lie low," Jim reprimanded the Master. "You know you'd love it."

"A huge, sky-high flat?" the Master said. "Of course I would. I'd have my name written in glowing neon letters if I could."

"Good lad. It's in an ideal location. From there, we could look over London as we made it our city," Jim said, still mentally switching every '_we' _and _'our' _to '_I'_ and '_my_'. Allying was only ever temporary, after all.

"First London, then England, then the world," Loki glowed. "And then even more."

"People are going to get in our way," the Master warned. "If the Doctor finds out I'm alive, he'll turn up and try to kill me or date me or something."

"Thor is… displeased with my escape," Loki admitted.

"Sherlock's like a cockroach," Jim said, disgusted. "He might be mortal, but only just. He's not an easy man to get rid of."

"We could kill them," the Master said thoughtfully. "I do hope we get to kill them."

"What's with the 'get'? Just do it anyway," Jim shrugged. "So, boys, should we get this flat?"

"I think so, yes," Loki smiled.

"Wait, it only has one bathroom?" the Master asked, scanning over the text. "That won't work. Loki's going to need one to himself for all of his hair-care products."

"I'm sure that insult was much more effective the first time around. Presumably somebody _rewound time_-"

"Oh, girls," Jim sighed. "Such wasted energy. We'll get this flat, and then you two can bicker to your heart's content."

"And what of all these challengers? Of my brother, and his team, and the others?"

The Master shrugged. "Kill 'em. I fail to see how this is an issue."

"We are somewhat outnumbered."

"It's about quality over quantity," the Master said, "and I really am top quality. Besides, aren't you supposed to be good at persuading people?"

"More than good."

"Then we can _make _numbers. We could get an army."

"That doesn't tend to work as well as you might hope."

"Okay, forget the army. But we_ could_ get others involved," Jim said thoughtfully. "I can recommend an excellent gunman."

"There are a few people I know of," Loki said grudgingly.

"Then what are we waiting for? The sooner we move in, the sooner we can move _out_ and take control of this stupid little world," the Master said, nearly bouncing with excitement.

"Just look at us. At our titles," Loki laughed softly. "The Master, the God, and the King. We were built for greatness."

"Either that or we all have severe personality disorders," the Master commented. Jim grinned.

"I don't think the two are exclusive."

* * *

It had all seemed like a marvellous idea then, with the three of them huddled together around the glowing screen. It had all gone so well for Jim up to that point. Step one- acquire powerful and charismatic Asgardian super villain. Check. Step two- acquire murderous and insane Time Lord. Check. Step three- combine sets of skills into one trio dedicated to the destruction of all that was good, pure, or _annoying. _This was not going as well.

Jim took his head off the table and sat up. Concentrating on criminal business was not easy with what sounded like fifty cats and some fireworks in a blender going on behind him. Something very heavy hit the wall, followed shortly afterwards by a string of angry swearwords.

"I will destroy you," he heard Loki snarl, and judging by the noise, the sceptre had been brought into things.

"I'd like to see you try, pretty boy," the Master snarled, and Jim heard Loki cry out.

"You'll regret the day you ever crossed me." More crashes, then a disgusting crunching sound and a whimper.

"I'm going to make you hurt, Loki," the Master hissed. "It's going to be very fun for me- less so for you." A very, very loud screech. Jim was suddenly glad that nobody lived in the flat below them.

"Boys, play nicely," Jim shouted back. "Otherwise I'm going to come back there and knock out your teeth, Loki, and push them down your throat, Master, until neither of you can scream anymore."

There was a pause. "Oh, Jim, you make everything so _dirty_," the Master snickered.

"Truce?" Loki offered, sounding tired out.

"Yeah, alright," he said grudgingly. "But I won't go easy on you if you do it again."

"Oh, good. I was getting concerned that that was all you had to offer."

"Concerned? You seemed on the brink of tears."

"I was disappointed, Master. You started this fight to enforce your threat- what was it again?"

"Does it really-"

"Ahh, yes. 'If you take my hair gel without asking, I will stop your heart from beating'. Yet my pulse is still strong. Perhaps you should put your murder where your mouth is."

Jim slammed his head back down onto the desk as the crashing began again. He had not banked on evil being even more irritating than good.


	2. And Moran Makes Four

**A/N- I'm taking back that 'no clear pairings' thing. All the actual relationship stuff is in the past only, though. **

**(I swear, these fics take on a life of their own, and this one was going 'Mormor… you know you want to…')**

**I love everybody that reviewed/favourited/alerted. Thank you so much. xx**

* * *

They'd been in the flat for just over a month when Jim reached breaking point. Well, obviously it wasn't his actual, real breaking point, because people tended to die long before that happened. A better way of phrasing it was to say that he finally made the calm and rational decision to do something about his situation (after a fair amount of vodka and many longing looks at his gun and even more _completely innocent_ questions about a Time Lord's susceptibility to bullets._)_

The phone rung once, then twice. Jim doodled on the corner of his page. Third ring. There was no guarantee that this would work, of course. Fourth ring. He would make it work. If he had to spend another day with just him and the assholes he lived with, he might have to eat his gun again- for real, this time. Fifth ring. Then a click, and somebody picked up.

"Hello?" the voice answered. Low, gravelly, and as familiar as his own.

"Seb. It's me."

For a few seconds, there was no response. Jim waited.

"Took you long enough, you cock," the grudging reply eventually came. "Where are you?"

"I'll text you the address."

"I'm free in three hours."

"I'll see you in two."

"I've waited a year, you can do another hour. See you then, Jim." Sebastian hung up. Jim sent him the flat details as promised, and slid the phone back into his pocket, chuckling. The moment of personal reflection did not last long.

"Ooh, Jimmy's making phone calls," a loud voice announced. Jim groaned as arms wrapped protectively around his neck. "What naughty things are you doing this time?"

"Nothing involving you," Jim said, batting away the Time Lord's hands.

"Temper, temper."

"It's just business."

"Really? Because I was led to believe that we used the business phone for that," Loki said, wandering into the room.

"Oh, alright, you got me. I'm getting you a new playmate. You'll like him, he's pretty."

"Good, that's something we'll have in common," the Master said. "What's the name?"

"Sebastian Moran. Every super villain needs a follower who shoots first and questions it later. Seb's that follower, and he's very good at the shooting bit."

"So this is the gunman you mentioned? How did he take the news of your not-deadness?"

"He didn't seem surprised."

"Oh, that must have been disappointing for you. Were it me, I would have expected fainting and rapturous praising of the heavens."

"If you'd like to test that theory, I could give the Doctor a ring."

"Yes, okay, very funny," the Master snarled. "Quit beaming like that, Loki. It does horrible things to your face."

"My smile could bring a village to its knees."

"Really? Because I heard that when you went to Stuttgart-"

"Oh, Sebastian is just going to love you two," Jim laughed fondly. The good news had put him in a rare affectionate mood.

"Oh, God. He's not, is he?" The Master looked taken aback. "I've gotten used to thinly veiled loathing."

"He's still going to want to kill you, but that's only natural."

"He is mortal?" Loki asked.

"Yep."

"Oh, good," Loki muttered sarcastically.

"Dull," the Master agreed in disgust. He flopped down onto the sofa and opened the newspaper.

"What's wrong with mortal?" Jim demanded.

"I am a god and a king, from another realm," Loki said. "I am above mortals."

"_I'm _mortal, Loki."

"There is no question that I am above you."

"You're just bitter because he beat you at Scrabble," the Master called from the sofa. Loki flushed an angry red.

"I would have won if you hadn't been so petty," Loki shot back at him.

"Oh, for God's sake, I wasn't being petty. 'Mjolnir' is_ not_ a word."

"And 'Toclafane' is?"

"'Toclafane' wasn't on a triple word score," Jim pointed out. "Either way, I won the game, so I guess I'm just better than both of you boys."

"I went easy on you," the Master said, which was quickly becoming their default answer to any suggestion of inferiority.

"Then let's play again now. I've got two hours before I'm meeting Seb."

"Eugh. _Effort_," the Master sighed.

"I hate board games," Loki agreed. "How about poker?"

"No!"

"_Absolutely _not."

"Why not?" Loki said, looking hurt.

"Just no, Loki."

"You're the god of fucking mischief, and poker revolves around lying. We are not playing it with you."

"Not again," Jim added.

"I know," Loki said, pained look dissolving into one of smugness. "It's just always so good to hear it." He ducked just in time to miss the remote control the Master threw at his head.

"Bastard," the Master grumbled.

"I'm getting back to work," Jim sighed. "Some of us are still interested in taking over London, you know."

"Working on it," the Master called, making no effort to move from the sofa. Loki merely raised an eyebrow, and wandered back through to another room. Jim sighed, and sat back down at his desk. He opened the notebook he was using and scowled at himself. Rough blue hearts scowled back at him, inked over and over again during the phone call. He really had to pay more attention to his doodling.

* * *

Seb was there within two hours. Jim had known he would be. He didn't ring the doorbell or even knock- he simply opened the door and walked in. _For a team of ultimate evil, we have appalling security._

For a few moments, they just stood there and took each other in. Jim assumed that he looked much the same as ever- he certainly hadn't traded in the Westwood. Seb hadn't changed much either. Short dark hair with a spray of stubble, piercing blue eyes, and a look on his face that said that he couldn't decide whether to kiss Jim or to punch his face in. Nope, hadn't changed much at all.

For one hideous moment, Jim was almost afraid things were going to be awkward. Very few things made James Moriarty feel unsure, and Sebastian Moran happened to be one of them. Luckily, 'awkward' was one of those concepts that was quickly becoming nothing more than a fond memory (along with 'peace', 'quiet' and 'rational and adult conversations').

"Are you the new boy?" the Master asked excitedly, crashing through from another room.

"Oh, Moran's here," Loki said, breezing in. _Is there an alarm saying 'bother Jim!' that sounds every time I want you two to piss off?_

"He _is _pretty, Jim," the Master said approvingly.

"Don't you have a black hole to be sucked into or something?" Jim snapped.

"Ooh, tetchy. Did I just piss you off in less than ten words?"

"A new record. You must be proud."

"I am."

"I think I can better it," Loki said slowly, as if forming an idea in his head. _This is going downhill very quickly._

"Go on," the Master said challengingly. "Five words?"

"Four."

"Oh, this should be good."

"Well?" Jim asked, cautiously curious. Loki looked from Sebastian to Jim, and smirked.

"He looks like Sherlock."

"Oh not okay, not okay!" the Master cawed in delight as Jim choked. "That explains why you like him! He's a Sherlock replacement."

"That's not even funny."

"It really, really is. Oh God, is that why you keep Loki around? Dark hair, pale skin, slightly psychotic? You have a _problem_, Jim."

"I don't know about Loki," Seb broke in coolly, "but he keeps _me_ around because I'm a fucking good killer, and a killingly good fuck. You comparing me to that virgin weakling makes me want to put a bullet through my own damned head. Or yours. I'm not fussy which."

For a moment, nobody was quite sure what was going to happen. But then the Master laughed in an outraged and delighted way.

"You are my new favourite thing of ever," he declared. Seb smiled for the first time, that crooked grin that made Jim soften in a way nothing else could.

(Except for that one picture Loki had shown him of a kitten in a shoe. They had made it the laptop's screensaver.)

"Sebastian Moran," Seb greeted, shaking the Master's hand. "Harold Saxon, I seem to remember?"

"Ha! See, he knows me!" the Master said, nearly giddy with delight. "Told you!"

"So he really was nearly the ruler of England?" Loki said with dismay. "I was hoping he'd made that up."

"He's not called that, just to let you know," Jim pointed out. "At least I use my real name when I lie."

"I'm the Master," the Master introduced himself. Seb crossed his arms.

"No."

"What?"

"I am not calling you that."

"Don't," Jim groaned. "We've had that fight."

"A lot," Loki added.

"It's honestly my name," the Master said.

"Honestly?"

"No, but it's close enough."

"It really is much quicker to just humour him," Loki said sympathetically.

"What am I supposed to call you, leather boy? The Destroyer, or something?"

"I prefer 'God of Mischief' or 'King of Asgard', but 'Loki' works too. Hello."

"I'm Jim," Jim offered, grinning.

"I think we've met," Seb replied. "Your grave is nice."

"So you visited regularly?" Jim asked expectantly. "Cried?"

"What? No, not really."

"Oh, Jim," the Master said sympathetically. "Even _I_had tears shed over me."

"They mourned me," Loki said. "Although, admittedly, it was probably the first time Father even noted my existence."

"Loki is the poster child for daddy issues," Jim explained.

"He's very good at taking things in his stride, isn't he?" the Master said, eyeing up Seb curiously. Seb shrugged, seemingly immune to the bickering. Jim wondered where the fuck he could get that inoculation.

"I didn't mourn because I knew you weren't dead, boss," Seb said.

"Interesting form of address," Loki remarked.

"I worked for Jim for a long time," Seb said. "Old habits die hard."

"I like it. It's good to get some respect," Jim said.

"I give you all the respect I feel you deserve," the Master replied.

"Let me guess- none?"

"Less than none, actually. But you were close."

"Why now?" Seb asked, ignoring everybody else and honing in on Jim. "Like I said- it's been over a year. What's changed?"

"Sit down," Jim said, lowering himself onto the leather sofa. Seb sat down a suitable distance from him. "You two, go and be awful somewhere else."

"With pleasure," Loki said dryly. "I would simply spend more time with my brother's friends if I wished to see homoerotic arguing."

"I think Holmes and Watson have that trademarked," Seb muttered.

"I'd better do work, then," the Master said, looking faintly nauseous at the idea. "Where's the laptop?"

"In my room," Jim told him. They had a work phone in addition to their own private mobiles, but they still only had the one laptop, which they used for both work and leisure. It had caused more than a few arguments.

"Well, do let me know if you need the bed," the Master said, leaving before Jim could even retort. Loki too drifted off to wherever it was that Loki went.

"You've made friends," Seb said, light twinkling in his eyes.

"I'm not sure 'friends' is the correct term. I go with 'allies', but I think I have more of a 'care in the community' role."

Seb laughed. "Come on, then. What do you want?"

"You," Jim said, ambiguity fully intended. Seb frowned.

"Go on?"

"You know how I hate people?"

"''course."

"I'm in this horrible position where I have to rely on them. If I tried to get back to where I was on my own, it'd take years and years. The police know me now. _Sherlock_ knows me now."

"So the angsty teenager and failed prime minister are for…?"

"Oh, Sebby. You make it sound like I'm going to war with Gordon Brown and the cast of Hollyoaks."

"Aren't you?"

"Nah. As much as it pains me to admit it, they're more than they look. It's… complicated. There's an awful lot of crazy going on."

"Basics first, please."

"I want London again. Loki wants the world but is content with starting small." He paused. "I think the Master just wants to blow things up."

"I can respect that."

"Yes, but I could do with some level-headedness to balance that all out. I had you by my side the first time I did this," he said simply. "I want you there again."

"You say 'jump', I say 'how high'?"

"More like 'I say 'shoot', you say 'chest or head'?" Though technically, you'd be working _with _me. Not for me."

"Translation: no more pay cheques."

"No, but lots of other perks. Consider it moving up from the kiddies' table to sit with the big boys."

Seb thought this over. "I like my flat."

"Then don't move in," Jim shrugged. "Come around during the day and fuck off back home at night."

"That alright with you?"

"Grand. So, you want in?"

"Sure thing, boss," Seb agreed.

"You don't have to-"

"Yeah, but I think I will anyway." Jim leant heavily against Seb, who seemed, as ever, unaffected. Jim did think that he felt the gunman move slightly into him, but he could have been imagining it.

"They have changed you, you know," Seb commented, staring straight ahead.

"How so?"

"For one, you know who Gordon Brown is."

"Oh," Jim grunted. "_That_. The Master makes me read the newspapers."

"Makes you?"

"Well, no, but he superglued one to my hand when I refused. I don't like to waste a whole day peeling text off my palm."

"Hollyoaks?"

"I said I wouldn't tell," Jim said innocently.

"You know you want to."

"Yes, I really I do. Loki likes to watch it."

"Oh, God. So that's what your life's come to."

"I know, I know. Faking suicide was great, but the aftermath? Not so much. Speaking of which," Jim said, sitting up a little. "I thought I did a thorough job with the whole dying thing. How did you know it was fake?"

"Holmes turned up. If _he'd _managed to make it out alive, there was no way you hadn't."

"I remember why I like you."

"What was he like? On the rooftop?" Seb asked.

"Oh, it was brilliant. You would have loved it."

"Did he cry?"

"Of course."

"Magic," Seb breathed. "It's a let-down that he actually jumped, though."

"That's harsh. You wanted me to fail?"

"No, I wanted the chance to put a bullet through Watson's skull."

"You could have just shot John anyway," Jim commented. "That would have been hot."

"Nah. Considered it, but no. He was worse off alive."

"Definitely remembering why I like you," Jim hummed.

"Because he reminds you of Sherlock?" Loki asked, walking into the room. Jim shot him a look with the ability to kill small or weakened animals.

"Where do you even keep coming from?"

"I like to appear when I sense I'm not needed. It's a talent of mine."

"Oh God, the angst, the endless angst."

"Angst? Was Loki talking again?" the Master called from the other room. He bounded through and shot a fascinated look at Jim and Seb. Jim scowled, and moved away pointedly. _Having a private moment- item twenty-seven on the list of 'things Jim can't do any more'._

"Loki," Seb said, calm but firm. "I am nothing like Holmes."

"Oh, I know," Loki said, face the picture of innocence. "You look nothing like him; you have a moustache."

"Yeah, Holmes couldn't grow facial hair if he tried. He has the testosterone of a tampon."

"Loki knows a lot about feminine hygiene products, as he actually is one of them," the Master broke in.

"If that's a reference, I'm afraid I'll need it explaining," Loki said regretfully.

"No problem. You see, a dou-"

"Master, just because nobody's paid attention to you for more than ten minutes doesn't mean we need to regress to being thirteen years old. Sebastian has agreed to work with us."

"Excellent," the Master said approvingly. "I have a lot of people I want shooting."

"Nice to have you on board," Loki said with a small nod.

"Yeah, good to be here and all that. So what's happening at the moment?"

"We've got a few clients on the go- nothing that exciting, but looking to secure a big drugs trade deal. I _had _a big drugs trade deal, until somebody stabbed it forty-seven times in the stomach."

Loki shrugged. "It was a Tuesday. I dislike Tuesdays."

"Basically, I find the people, Loki talks them into doing what we want, the Master comes in when they're uncooperative," Jim explained.

"Which is often, as Loki tends to screw it up."

"I am a flawless interrogator."

"Oh, come on. We've heard the stories. If a busty readhead in a tight suit presses herself at you, you trip over yourself to tell her everything."

"That was once!" Loki paused. "And she tricked me!"

"You're pretty useless as a god of mayhem, aren't you?"

"Wait- nah. Nah, never mind," Seb said, shaking his head. "So where do I come in?"

"If they're _very _uncooperative," Jim answered. Seb smiled.

"Sounds about ri-" He was cut off by loud music filling the room. Jim glared at the Master.

"Did you change the work phone's ringtone again?" he demanded.

"No!"

"Oh, you _so _did."

"It wasn't me!"

"Loki, get the sceptre."

"Okay, okay, so maybe it was."

"Hello?" Loki said, grabbing the phone and answering it. "Yes? About time." He walked through to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. Jim ran his hands through his hair, and turned back to Seb.

"I can honestly say that we don't usually have 'Call Me Maybe' as our official crime ringtone."

"And I don't have a moustache," Seb said suddenly. The Master looked at him in disbelief.

"Has that really been bugging you this whole time?"

"Only paedophiles and janitors have moustaches," Seb grumbled.

"Seb, you're supposed to be my sanity. Don't fail me now," Jim pleaded.

"Jim, what's happened to you? Maturity doesn't suit you," Seb said.

"Somebody has to take some responsibility for things."

"Why?"

"He doesn't trust us," the Master said. "He thinks we'll ruin all his devious little plans."

"Are you kidding me?" Seb said in disbelief. "Jim's the king of delegation. If he can pin it on somebody else, he will. Nobody ever gets to him."

"Yeah, well someone did," Jim said wearily. "Relying on others is one thing when you're an untouchable crime lord. Now, when every policeman in the country would recognise me and half of my former clients want nothing to do with me? I'm playing it safe, Sebby. I thought you'd approve."

"Wow," the Master whistled. "I think I've touched a nerve."

"See? You really think I could entrust London to _that?_" Jim asked, jerking a thumb at the Master.

"Stop being such a dick," the Master demanded. "Believe me when I say that I know what I'm doing."

"You know how to do this, boss," Seb agreed. "And you know 'safe' doesn't even enter into it."

Jim looked him up and down. "Fine," he said brusquely, turning back to the Master. "Check the emails. See if the Black Lotus have replied yet."

The Master looked stunned. "You'd let me take the Black Lotus case?"

"I would let you borrow the Black Lotus case, on the understanding that if you screw it up I'll use your eyeballs for target practice."

"That's the Jim we know and love," the Master said, mock saluting and going through to join Loki.

"Idiot," Jim muttered. He twisted back to Seb, moving a fraction closer. He lightly touched the gunman's arm.

"No," Seb said bluntly.

"No?" he sulked, withdrawing his hand. "Why not?"

"Come on, boss. Think about it."

Jim did so. "Oh," he groaned. "Oh, that's just not even fair."

"Got it now?"

"You knew I was alive because Sherlock was."

"Yup."

"So for six months-"

"Yup."

"Half a year thinking I was dead."

"And then another six knowing you weren't and wondering why you hadn't contacted me."

"Did you lie earlier?" Jim asked curiously. "About mourning?"

Seb paused. "There was some crying. Shooting things, yeah, but also crying."

"I didn't even know you had tear ducts," Jim remarked.

"Neither did I."

"So that's a definite no to picking up where we left off?" he checked.

"For now, yeah."

"Shame. You were- to use your own words- a 'killingly good fuck'," he said sadly. Seb laughed.

"Sorry, boss."

"Eh, I'll live," Jim said. "Now, if you'll excuse me- trust issues aside, Loki and the Master have been in a room together for more than five minutes and that is absolutely never a good thing." Right on cue, there was a loud, sharp bang from the other room.

"Oh, God," Seb said, springing to his feet. "I thought it had gotten too quiet."

Jim pushed the door open to find the Master talking on the phone and typing on the laptop. "No, no. Illness in the family can be hard, yes, but you owe us at least double that." He turned to look at them and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know you're having money troubles- look, shut up, I don't care about your wife unless you want to sell me her."

"_Loki?"_ Jim mouthed. The Master jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Loki was slumped out cold on the floor, with what looked like a tie stuffed into his mouth. A very expensive tie. There was a faint red smear against the wall.

"Stop using my clothes in your sex games," Jim complained, pulling the wad of material out. "What did he even do?"

"He wouldn't give me the phone when I asked, and I said please and everything. No, not you- why would I want a phone from you? What I _want _is a lot more money than you're offering."

"If you've killed him, that's just plain rude. I was first in line."

Loki opened his eyes slightly and smiled devilishly at Jim.

"Oh, for God's sake," Jim muttered under his breath. "Can you at least wait until he's finished with this case?"

"Of course," Loki whispered back. "All in good time."

"Do they do this often?" Seb asked, leaning against the door frame.

"I can't lie- it makes life interesting."

"I'm going to give you to my friend now, if that's alright. If that isn't alright, I can't say it changes things." The Master held out the mobile. "We've got a '_Jive Talkin_' on the line."

"Hello there," Jim said, taking the phone. "Have you ever heard of the 'death by a thousand cuts'? I read about it recently, and I've just been _dying _to find somebody to re-enact it with."

"'_Jive Talkin'_?" Sebastian asked the Master incredulously.

"Hey, don't judge. Some people use code numbers, other use colours. Jim prefers to use Bee-Gee song titles."

"Oh, God."

"I wanted 'Smack My Bitch Up', but apparently I'm not allowed to make decisions."

"Am I allowed to assassinate _you_?" Seb asked curiously.

"I'm afraid we have a strict 'no killing flatmates' policy," the Master said sadly. "Maiming, grievous bodily harm and non-lethal stabbings and shootings are fine, though. We've had a lot of discussions about this."

"Any other rules I should know about?"

"Yeah. Don't mess with the settings on the TV."

"So stabbing's fine, but I can't change the screen's brightness?"

"It took us about four hours to get just right."

"I feel like I'm in some ridiculous, backwards version of Hell."

"And…?"

"I like it."

"Good man."


	3. The More You Know

**A/N- when you're defining a 2,400 word fic as a 'short update', something has gone terribly wrong in your life. But I'll call it that anyway, as the next is ridiculously long. And fun. Why is writing this series so fun?**

**Thank you to everybody who reviewed/favourited etc. You are fabulous. xx**

* * *

The day after Seb joined them, it was decided that certain things needed explaining. They supposed that it was only fair to tell him that the men he had agreed to work with were alien mass murderers; to give him a chance to back out before he got too far in. But none of them had ever had much time for 'fair', so their main motivation for telling Seb was 'shits and giggles' (and placing bets on his reaction).

"Is this going to take long?" Seb asked, picking up a chair. "It's getting late."

"As if you have plans," Jim snorted.

"You don't know that," he argued.

"Do you have plans?"

"… no."

"Let's try and make this quick anyway," Loki said, sitting down. They had dragged the dining chairs out into the centre of the floor and arranged them in a rough circle. It felt right, for some reason.

"Hello, I'm the Master, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Wrong meeting," Jim said.

"Weight Watchers?"

"_Please_."

"Group therapy?"

"I fucking hope not."

"I'd like to see the psychotherapist brave enough to take you on," the Master grinned.

"They tried," Jim volunteered. "Fourteen of them, actually."

"And how did that go?"

"Loved it. I convinced one that I was pathologically afraid of matching socks. I saw the seventh one for two years straight, and she still has no idea that I can actually talk."

"Who would have guessed it? You seem such a well-adjusted human being."

"What can I say? I'm a winner."

"Why am I here again?" Seb interrupted.

"We thought we had probably better explain some things to you," Loki said.

"If you want to quit afterwards, we won't mock you that much," the Master carried on. "I realise that most people do have a weirdness saturation level."

"He knows Jim. I should imagine his is off the scale," Loki murmured.

"You'll be finding a dead animal in your bed later this week, Loki," Jim informed him casually. "You can choose the species if you like."

"That's kind, but I feel the element of surprise adds a certain something."

"Give me the abridged version of events," Seb suggested. "I can fill in the gaps myself. Although if you suggest icebreakers, I'll push someone through the window."

"I love bonding like this," the Master said.

"We could simply take it in turns to explain our own… complications," Loki said. "After all, he already knows Jim, and as long as the Master doesn't ramble on for hours it could be relatively quick."

"I don't _ramble_."

"On the contrary, all you do is ramble."

"I can be concise when I want."

"Go on, then. Impress us," Jim drawled.

"Alright, I will. Hi. I'm the Master. I'm a Time Lord from Gallifrey."

"Okay, maybe a little less-"

"I was dead for a while but I was brought back to life- though the Doctor doesn't know that, so let's not celebrate too loudly. I enslaved humanity once, but time was rewound so nobody remembers it."

"Stunning."

"I intend to do so again, but I'm taking things slowly this time around. Recruiting an alien army always seems like a good idea at the time, but it's just too unpredictable. Questions?"

"… a few," Seb said evenly.

"Go."

"What's a Time Lord?"

"An alien race. We can travel in time and space- well, at least I _could _if I had a TARDIS."

"Right. Which is…?"

"Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It's a space-time-ship… thing."

"Okay. And where's Gallifrey?"

"In a binary star system, in the constellation Kasterborous."

"It's another planet," Jim filled in. "He's from another planet."

Everybody waited expectantly. Seb leant back in his chair, and fastened his hands behind his head.

"You still smoke, Jim?" he asked eventually.

"Sometimes. Why?"

"Can I have a cigarette?"

"Fuck off."

"Fair play," Seb said. "Okay. So Loki next?"

"That's it?" the Master said, clearly a little taken aback. This was understandable; he had £50 on Seb passing out. "That's your entire reaction to being told I'm an alien? Who can travel in time? And destroyed Earth?"

Seb shrugged. "I can buy it."

"Does anything faze you?" the Master demanded. "At all? Ever?"

Seb had to think about this. "Don't much like moths."

"Moths?" Loki asked incredulously.

"Yeah. They're creepy, all flappy and shit. They kind of weird me out."

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Sebastian Moran's biggest fear in life," the Master said. "Shooting innocent people? Fine! Living with aliens? It's all fine. Just don't put him near an insect."

"What's the point in getting freaked out?" Seb said. "Doesn't get you anywhere faster. I'm still don't understand half of what you've said, but I'm not gonna waste my time worrying about it."

"I bet your teachers loved you," Jim said.

"Oh, they did."

"You're sure you aren't going to faint?" the Master tried one final time.

"What? No."

"Aliens aren't exactly unheard of," Jim pointed out. "Not after Loki sent an army to New York."

"I was invading Earth before it was cool," the Master said sullenly.

"So is he from Gallifrey too?" Seb asked, gesturing at Loki.

"No!" the Master and Loki exclaimed at the same time.

"_God _no."

"Please don't insult me, Sebastian."

"You seriously think that _that _could come from the same place as me?"

"Gallifrey is for fools and the dead. I find the two are often interconnected."

"If I was brought up with Loki, I would have done the honourable thing and drowned him at birth."

"Is this some extreme form of patriotism?" Seb asked. "Like, 'my world is better than your world'?"

"They should have Interplanetary Eurovision," Jim agreed.

"So where _are_ you from?" Seb asked Loki.

"Asgard."

"How did you end up on Earth?"

"There was talk of my punishment. It sounded dull, and so I left."

"I somehow doubt that was as easy as you make it sound," Seb said.

"You fled to the planet where you're a recognised war criminal," the Master whistled. "Nice."

"Trust me, I wouldn't have chosen here. I didn't get a say in things."

"Hey," Seb said, offended. "If you don't like it, you're free to go."

"You aliens are all the same_._ Coming here, complaining about our lifestyle, taking all our jobs..." Jim lamented.

"You sound like a Daily Mail reader."

"I prefer 'The Sun'," the Master threw in. "Got to love page three. Excellent reporting right there."

"I have utterly no idea what you're all talking about," Loki said.

"Good point, actually. How much do you two even know about Earth?"

"Tons," the Master said. "I've been here loads of times."

"I believe I know enough, but I'm always learning," Loki said. "It is useful to blend in."

"We're feeding him up on a steady diet of reality TV shows and trash tabloids," the Master said proudly.

"I can help with that," Seb said gruffly. Jim looked at him in disbelief. "What? I've had a lot of free time."

"So yes. Gallifrey, Asgard," the Master said, pointing at himself and Loki in turn. "Time Lord, Asgardian."

"Technically- no, never mind," Loki said.

"Nuh uh. No backsies, darling," Jim said. "Technically what?"

"If you want to get into the specifics of it, I'm not Asgardian," Loki said.

The Master sat up. "You lying bastard, you told us you were!"

"I told you I was from Asgard," Loki argued. "They are not interchangeable terms."

"So what are you then?" Jim asked. "The Asgardian version of a dog or something?"

"I am a Frost Giant," Loki stated.

Whilst he said it with pride, Jim hadn't got to where he was without being able to read people. There was pain in his voice and his face, hidden somewhere deep down. They had known that Loki had some issues with his family, but Jim had never much cared exactly what they were. _This could be fun. _Jim glanced over at the Master, but he seemed oblivious.

"Frost Giant?" the Master asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Loki said, bristling.

"You're pretty undersized for a giant, aren't you?"

"Size is no indicator of power," he said firmly.

"Is that what your mummy and daddy used to tell you when boys at school were mean to you?" the Master mocked. There it was again- the same flash of hurt in Loki's eyes. _Yup, definitely got some issues there. _Jim filed the information under 'things of potential use when in fights'.

"I'd tell you this is interesting, but I don't wanna lie to people I just met," Seb said. "Anything else I should know?"

"Probably lots of things," the Master said. "But it's much more fun to find out as you go along. So your turn, gunman. Tell us all about yourself."

Seb, for the first time, looked a little perturbed. "Um. I'm an assassin. I was born in London. I like guns. Dicked around in the army for a while, but then Jim came along and distracted me. I did business for him for four years before he fucked things up by jumping off a roof."

"And for how long _did _that business involve fucking?" the Master asked intently.

"Three years, three-hundred and sixty four days," Seb answered smoothly. The Master whistled.

"James Moriarty, I am appalled," he said solemnly. "At least I took Lucy on a _date _first."

"Hey, I did that!" Jim protested.

"You had me shoot an old woman," Seb retorted.

"There were candles in her flat. That's kind of like romance, right?"

"Still one up on Loki," the Master broke in. "I'm pretty sure he reproduces by mitosis."

"Oh, had a whole two minutes had gone by without mocking me? Thank you for rectifying that."

"In _five _minutes we've moved on from the revelation that you two aren't from Earth to questioning my sex life," Seb said. "I think you all need to get out more."

"Would if I could, Sebastian," the Master said sadly. "Would if I could. I like to keep a low profile in case the Doctor shows up."

"So the Doctor is bad?" Seb clarified.

"Well, he's good, but that's bad, if you see what I mean."

Seb nodded. "Like Holmes and Watson."

"Yeah, but _they _can't travel in time."

"Just as well. How about you?" he asked Loki. "The Avengers initiative, right?" Loki nodded tightly. "Nice. Most of us only have one arch-enemy. You have six."

"That's not fair," Jim agreed. "Stop being so greedy. Pick _one_."

"Thor," he answered immediately.

"Your brother?" Seb said, raising an eyebrow.

"How do you even know that?" the Master asked.

"It's my own superpower. I have the ability to take an interest in world events and actually retain the information."

"Oh, we don't waste our time with that," Jim said. "Famines in Africa really aren't sexy."

"I suppose it's a quaint enough hobby," the Master said. "A bit like stamp collecting. We can't all be geniuses."

"How about you two, then?" Loki asked. "Who is worse? Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?"

"Sherlock," Jim answered immediately. "John's just one of his toys. His favourite, maybe, but he's nothing special."

Seb opened his mouth to speak, but the Master interrupted him.

"I feel so inadequate," he complained. "Enemies, sure, I've got dozens of them. But all I have to choose between for _arch_-enemies are different versions of the Doctor."

"Versions?" Seb asked.

"Oh, yeah. You see, regeneration can-"

"It's eleven at night. I am absolutely not dealing with 'regeneration'." Seb pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "I'm off. First, though, give me the gun back," he said to the Master. Jim hadn't even noticed him take it.

"Say 'please'."

Seb responded by pulling a knife from his jacket and pressing it against the Master's throat in one swift movement.

"That nice enough?"

"What's the point in pickpocketing people if they _notice_?" the Master grumbled, reaching behind him and pulling out the gun.

"And the bullets?"

"Bite me."

"No thanks. Don't know where you've been."

"He's fitting in very well," Loki commented to Jim as the Master leant back in his chair to kick Seb firmly in the chest, and the fighting began. "I almost hope he found the razor blades I hid in his Chinese food."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Jim said. They both nodded approvingly as the Master threw Seb bodily against the wall, noise echoing throughout the whole flat.

"Do you think he'll stay?" Loki said. Seb had the Master pinned to the floor, knife pressed tight against his jugular. Jim shrugged.

"You're good with a knife," he called out.

"Better with a gun," Seb grunted. He turned his head back to the Master. "Give me the bullets."

"Don't have them."

"Let me know when they're done," Loki sighed. He picked up his chair and dragged it back to the other side of the room.

"Come on, I don't have all day," Seb said.

"No, really. Jim took them," the Master smiled from under the blade. Jim put the chair he was moving down. _Some people hate fun. _There was a brief pause, and then Seb began to laugh. He backed away from the Master, tucking the knife back into his pocket.

"Oh, dear," Loki said. "I was rather hoping you'd stab him."

"Nah. Not today, at least." He turned to Jim, and held his hands out questioningly. Jim smirked, and threw the handful of bullets out in a shower. Seb caught two in one hand, three in the other, and showed no interest in picking up the rest.

"Asshole," he said, still chuckling as he stashed the ammo in his pocket.

"You're welcome," Jim said. Seb turned and headed for the door, stepping over the littered bullets, but paused when he reached Loki. Slowly, deliberately, he stuck his tongue out to reveal four glistening silver blades, arranged in a neat pattern. He pulled them back in, closed his mouth, and grinned.

"See you lot tomorrow," he said.


	4. I Think We Were Crime Lords Once

**************Is this even slightly close to any kind of canon any more? At all?** For reference, I'm mostly going off the TV show and Marvel movie canons, rather than the original books or the comics/Norse mythology.

**I feel like I owe the world an apology for even writing this. It's very long and very, very strange. Don't say I never warned you. I'm worried that some parts could potentially be considered offensive- please know it's all done in good humour.**

**Thank you so much for adding this to your Favourites/Alerts and reviewing. You people and this ludicrous crack!fic are some of the best things in my life. I don't know when it will update again, but it will. Oh, it will.**

* * *

There were some points in life, Jim thought, where you had to stand back and take the time to consider how you got there.

The trick with Crown Jewels had been one such occasion. As the guards burst in, Jim had sat back and taken a moment to fully appreciate how far he had come. Yes, he really _had_ broken in to one of the most secure buildings in the world, and yes, he really was going to get away with it. It would have been surreal if he hadn't had such confidence in his own abilities.

However, most things went both ways. 'How did my life end up here?' was definitely not intended positively at 3A.M in a packed gay club- especially not with Loki and the Master passed out on the floor, onlookers screaming, and Seb calmly handing him another lurid pink cocktail.

* * *

**_Three days beforehand_**

"Good news!" the Master announced, beaming as he walked into the room.

"Laura isn't a man?" Jim asked.

"Laura _is_ a man?" Seb asked.

"It's terminal?" Loki asked, without looking up from his book.

The Master scowled. "You know, it might be some weird alien thing, but on Gallifrey we'd say 'what?'"

"Weird alien thing," Seb confirmed.

"Speaking of weird alien things, how _is _Laura?" Loki said, turning the page.

"Oh, fine, poke fun at my girlfriend rather than actually talking about business."

"Gladly. Who wants to begin?"

"I don't understand why none of you like her," he complained.

"Because ancient aliens shouldn't date Earth girls," Jim scolded him. "Certainly not _pole-dancing_Earth girls."

"If you can show me a man who would say no to a twenty-two year old pole dancer, then I will show you a lot of money."

"I'd say no."

"_God_ no."

"She looks like a bulldog that's eaten half of its owner's makeup bag," Loki offered.

"You're all just jealous that I can actually get a date," the Master snapped.

"Did he really say that?" Seb said, dismayed. "He'll be telling us we only tease him because we think he's cute in a minute."

"His mummy says he's cool," Jim agreed.

"I could get a partner if I _wanted _one," Loki argued.

"Oh? And how would you accomplish that?"

"I've heard that 'asking' works."

"Please," the Master snorted. "Your seduction technique involves walking into a room of women and shouting 'kneel'."

"And?" Loki finally looked up from the page to smirk. "Half of them are on their knees before I even open my mouth."

"As much as I love to watch your cat fights," Jim interrupted, "I did kind of want to know what the good news was."

It had been over a month since Seb agreed to join them, and business was growing every day with him as their 'public face'. Admittedly, Seb looked intimidating, but he wasn't currently on any 'Most Wanted' lists. That was the kind of luxury they didn't all have. Once they had been able to physically send somebody out to meet clients and spread the word, business had picked up almost immediately.

"I don't think I want to tell you now," the Master sulked.

"I bought a new claw hammer today," Seb said idly. "I just thought you might like to know that."

"Alright, alright. The Black Lotus want to sign on with us."

"Seriously?" Jim said. They had been negotiating the Black Lotus case for nearly six weeks. The organisation had been uncharacteristically insistent with their demands; apparently the fact that he had paid Seb to shoot the last General through her forehead was something of an issue.

"Yup, Seems that poor General Shan died quietly of stomach cancer."

"How sad."

"I know, right? So I really don't know what all of those _assassination _rumours were about."

"Poor woman," Loki echoed.

"I had no idea she'd passed away," Jim said sadly.

"I've never shot anybody in my life," Seb agreed.

"No, too far," the Master said, shaking his head firmly. "Not even the Pope would believe you on that."

"Does the pope generally ask hitmen about their involvement with Chinese smuggling rings?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"This is gorgeous," Jim sighed happily, ignoring the background interference. "The Black Lotus back on board." He paused. "Took them fucking long enough. How much money did you promise them?"

"Some," the Master replied.

"How much are they going to get?"

"Less than some. The money wasn't the most important thing, though."

"Go on?"

"I told them we're a non-violent organisation now." Everybody stared at him.

"You're kidding me," Seb eventually said. "And they believed you?"

"I sold it very well. I've sworn an oath that we won't lay a hand on anybody, no matter what happens. No attacks, no fights, and certainly no killing."

"Why would you even say something like that?" Loki said.

"The man who runs it now was Shan's son. It was the only way to get him to agree."

"But the Lotus love killing," Jim objected.

"Yeah, exactly. _They _don't mind murder, but they sure as hell don't want us doing it. They won't work with us if we're a threat, so any kind of violence we show is an absolute deal breaker."

"They might as well have insisted we stop breathing," Loki pouted.

"So when is this meeting happening?" Jim asked.

"Monday- some dingy little bar in a backstreet alley. It reeks of sleaze and sex. You'll love it."

"What time?"

"Around 10PM. They want to talk to me, but they want you there too."

"Naturally," Jim said. "I know a lot of the people involved. Plus I'm so lovable."

"I remember the old lady, but not much else," Seb said thoughtfully. "These were the guys with the jade pin, right? The ones that nearly killed Watson's beard?"

"He's not back on facial hair again, is he?" Jim heard Loki hiss.

"Earth term. I'll explain later," the Master shushed.

"Yeah. They work in a strange way. They'll operate alone if they have to, but it's confused and muddled. Lots of different little groups, nobody quite sure what's trading what- but they're content to carry on. If somebody shows up and declares themselves in charge loudly enough, they'll eventually fall into line."

"And that somebody was you?" the Master guessed. Jim nodded.

"About four years ago now. The Black Lotus took decades to create, but once I showed up, it took me less than two weeks to have it under my control."

"Show off," Seb said.

"It says something pretty nasty about their backbone," the Master laughed.

"It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation," Loki said lightly.

There was a moment of silence.

"How the fuck do you come up with this shit, Loki?" the Master demanded.

"I have a gift," he shrugged.

"You have a complex."

"Nah, he has a _replay button," _Seb said. "I've heard that one before. Germany, right?"

"I believe that some things are worth saying twice," Loki said.

"Ooh, new game! How much of Loki's material is actually a repeat performance?" the Master said, examining Loki intently.

"If you actually watched the news, maybe you'd know," Seb said. "You know, for people who deal exclusively with crime, you are fucking awful at keeping track of current events."

"Hey, I do. Just not through the news. Newspapers-"

"- are fairy tales," Seb finished for Jim. "Yeah, I remember."

"All they do is dramatize and glorify," Jim scorned. "And I'm all about the drama and glory, but not when somebody else is making it."

Seb looked unconvinced.

"Oh, come on. You saw the way they reported the Penbrook murder last week. 'Local hero shot through the eye while he read the Bible to the homeless.'"

"That _was_ ridiculous," Seb agreed. "That was a clean headshot."

"Exactly," Jim said triumphantly. "So watch the news? Nah. I prefer to get it my own exclusive edition. You can get a very balanced view on things through the crosshairs of a gun."

"Excuse me, but I believe we were mocking Loki," the Master pointed out. "It's one of my favourite activities and I demand that we devote more time to it."

"So do you plan out these speeches in advance or something?" Jim said, seamlessly switching topics.

"Some of us are naturally charismatic."

"And some of us are naturally attractive, but you're neither," the Master said.

"I bet he does," Jim said. "I bet he has a page in his diary entitled 'Speeches To Make Humans Feel Stupid'."

"'Speeches About How Great I Am.'"

"'Speeches About How Much Thor Sucks'"

"All tucked right between the love poetry and lyrics about his deepest emotions."

"I'm not the one who gave his girlfriend a 'Greatest Love Hits' CD last weekend," Loki snapped. Jim gawped in amazement.

"You _didn't_."

"Loki, you bastard, you said you wouldn't say anything!"

"I was with him when he stole it from the store," Loki said gleefully.

"This just gets better and better," Jim said in wonder.

"It keeps her happy, okay? It means that she stops questioning why her _boyfriend _lives with three other men."

"So she _has _questioned it?" Jim said pointedly.

"Bad luck," Seb said sympathetically, patting the Master on the shoulder and getting to his feet. "I'm getting coffee."

"What do you mean, bad luck?"

"Unpatriotic bastard," Jim glared. "What's wrong with tea?"

"Are you deaf? What do you mean, bad-" the Master cut himself off, and a look of 'oh, shit' dawned on his face. Jim knew that look. It was the kind of look people got during interrogations when they realised they had given away far more than they intended.

Jim looked at Loki. Loki looked at Jim. They grinned.

* * *

"If you don't stop fighting, I will turn this car around and take you all back home," Seb warned.

"He started it," the Master whined.

"See, this is why I sat in the front. Ow!" Jim shouted, as something sharp scratched along his face. "Was that a screwdriver? Why do you even have a fucking screwdriver?"

"I like to be impulsive," the Master said.

"If that scars, I'll cut off your hands," Jim hissed, twisting in his seat to look directly at Loki and the Master.

"You should be thanking me," the Master said. "Scars attract the ladies."

"If by 'ladies' you mean 'Laura', I would cut off my _own _hands before I let that happen."

Jim turned back around, and the Master muttered under his breath. He suddenly jabbed Loki hard in the ribs with the screwdriver, causing him to shriek.

"You were annoying me," he said as an explanation.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Doesn't matter."

Jim's eyes met Loki's in the mirror, and Loki shot him a look that said very bad things were going to happen. _All in good time._

By the time they had arrived at the cramped pub, the Master had a large, bleeding cut down his left arm and Loki had several small round burns on the backs of his hands. Jim had never even seen the Master smoke, and was forced to conclude that he only carried cigarettes for that exact purpose.

That was no more intense than their usual squabbling, though. Child's play, nothing out of the ordinary. Only two weeks beforehand, Jim had been unable to walk for three days due to the Master throwing him down a staircase. It hadn't been very fun, but Jim had put a large enough dose of laxative in the Master's tea afterwards to balance it out.

The bar was cramped and the carpet saturated with stale beer and fag butts. The light was low, and the few patrons already around looked near-catatonic from intoxication. Jim could see their reasoning. _If this was the kind of lifestyle I had to endure, I'd have a constant IV of vodka._

"I know we're trying to lie low," Jim complained, "but there has to be a limit."

"I thought we gave up trying when we bought a sky-high flat with huge windows," Loki said.

"Shut up, Loki," the Master said. "You bastards owe me this. I agreed to the disguises." They were hardly dressed in hideous outfits- simply plain, everyday clothes- but only Seb and Jim looked at all casual.

"I'm not happy about that either, you know," Loki objected. "I look like I'm in a boy band."

"Teenage girls will have you plastered on their walls."

"If you're done fawning, Moran, General Shan will be here in less than five minutes," the Master said. "Can we have one last check that all of you lovely gentlemen and Loki know what you're doing?"

"If you insist," Jim said. "I'm meeting with the representative."

"Me too," the Master could tell that he was anxious- not that the Master would ever admit was an important client and his first solo-run case for their little crime had spent every day since the Master took it reassuring him that if even the _slightest _thing went wrong, he would very much regret had considered making the threat more specific, but had decided to leave it to the Master's impressively warped imagination. It was working.

"I'm-" Loki began.

"You'll be in the corner, making no noise and pretending you're not there," the Master instructed. Loki scowled.

"If Loki is Harry Potter, does that make Thor Voldemort?" Jim whispered to Seb.

"I doubt it," Loki said, overhearing one of the few references he understood. "My brother would rather kill himself than cut off his hair."

"And you?" the Master said, ignoring them and turning to Seb.

"I'm sitting at the other table with my gun," Seb said. "Backup."

"Good."

"I'm also getting drunk."

"You are doing no such thing," Jim admonished. "We're on a case."

"So? Makes life more interesting."

"This isn't life, Seb, this is _work. _Have you ever carried out an assassination drunk?" Jim asked sternly.

"Once or twice."

"Really? How was it?"

"Great. Like one of those fairground games where you have to shoot the moving ducks."

"Can you three _not_ be dicks for sixty minutes?" the Master said, exasperated. "Loki, there's not even a reason for you to be here."

"I can see one very good reason," Loki said, looking over the Master's shoulder. He spun around, confused, and the woman at the bar smiled at him. He beamed back, worry temporarily forgotten. Jim snorted. _That man has the attention span of a goldfish on marijuana._

"Hi," she said shyly. She was nineteen or twenty, in a tight red dress that showed more leg than was really necessary. She had dark blonde hair, tumbling over one shoulder, and bright red lipstick to match her outfit. It was all too gaudy for Jim's tastes, but the Master seemed to lap it up.

"Hello," he said smoothly, crossing over to talk to her. "I hope this isn't inappropriate, but I wanted to let you know that you look utterly gorgeous."

The woman was blushing, trying to hide her smile. "That's kind, but-"

"Nuh-uh, no buts," he told her, putting a finger to her lips. "I'm on some very important business because I'm a very important man- but if you give me an hour, I'll be all yours. And trust me, I do mean _all _yours."

"Is he for real?" Jim said in disbelief.

"Nobody tell Laura," Seb grimaced. Jim turned to the bar and ordered himself a beer.

"Where's mine?" Seb grumbled.

"In the tap, you stingy fuck. Buy your own."

Meanwhile, the woman was still playing hard to get. "Oh, I don't know…" she said, looking torn.

"Shh," the Master murmured, moving his hand to stroke her cheek.

Almost on cue, the bathroom door by the bar swung open, and a hugely muscled man stepped out. He took one look at the Master, his fingers now gently playing with the woman's hair, and made his own judgement on the situation. The look of surprise on the Master's face was not one Jim had seen before: but then again, Jim had never seen him lifted directly off his feet by one arm around his neck before.

"Were you fucking touching my woman?" the giant bellowed, shaking him.

"No," the Master said immediately.

"You were fucking touching her," the giant repeated. "Don't try and fucking deny it!"

It was at this point that an elfin, plainly dressed Chinese man entered the bar, a small black flower tucked discreetly into his shirt pocket. The Master had moved his hand towards his pocket with the 'customised' screwdriver, but when he saw the General out of the corner of his eye he hesitated. If he fought the man, he would lose a very important client and have Jim to answer to. If he didn't fight the man, he might keep the client, but he would lose a significant chunk of his dignity.

Jim almost found it heart-warming that there even _was _a dilemma. The alien he had first met three months ago would have solved the problem by killing every person in the bar. It was at that point that Loki hurried over to the pair.

"Excuse me," he said, voice somehow softer than usual. "What's going on here?"

"This fucking asshole was feeling up my girlfriend," the man accused. Loki laughed; it was a strangely effeminate titter.

"I really don't think that's likely," Loki said. Jim took a long drink of his pint. _I have no idea what's going on, but this could be worth watching._

"You callin' me a liar?" the man snarled.

"No, sir, nothing like that. I think you must have been mistaken- though I don't blame you."

"What do you mean?" the man said suspiciously, but he lowered the Master to the ground all the same.

"I know what he's like, that all. My boyfriend really can be _ever _so silly," he said, taking the Master's hand in his. Jim spat his beer over the table.

"Oh. _Oh_," the man said, pulling his arm away from the Master as though he was about to molest it. "Oh, God, sorry."

"That's bull," the woman said, clearly unhappy with the way things were turning out. "He was definitely coming on to me. He told me I was gorgeous."

"He takes an interest in fashion," Loki explained, squeezing his 'boyfriend's hand affectionately. The Master looked like he was in physical pain. "You want to be the next Gok Wan, don't you sweetie?"

"I have never been so happy that we introduced him to pop culture," Jim heard Seb say.

"Yes," the Master said, voice strained. "Yes, that's all. I'm so sorry for the confusion," he said, forcing an uncooperative arm around Loki's waist.

"No problem, mate," the man said, still clearly terrified of the wild and raging homosexual. "We're going, Elise."

"But-"

"We're going!" he said impatiently, tugging her by the arm. They exited the bar hurriedly, and Loki and the Master turned around, pinging away from each other like two negatively charged magnets. Jim and Seb were sat at separate tables by then, but their face-stretching smiles were identical.

"If you can put Loki down for just one minute, Harry, Mr. Shan is here," Jim drawled. The Master's eyes flashed. Jim was almost certainly going to pay for that later- probably with some kind of spiked instrument hidden in his bed- but some things were simply worth it.

"General Shan," the Master said, springing back into professional mode. "I'm Harold Saxon. I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It's okay," he said, raising his hands slightly in acceptance. "Really. You two are very cute."

The Master's eyelid began to twitch.

"Let's discuss details," Jim said, before the Master decided that the walls needed redecorating with plasma. "Please, have a seat. I believe you've been dealing with Mr Saxon on this matter."

"I have, yes," Shan nodded, sitting down. "He has been most kind. Very sorry for our loss, he said."

"He's a very caring gentleman," Jim said, as Loki curled his fingers in a flirtatious from across the room and the Master's hand flickered towards his pocket again. "Anyway, moving swiftly on-"

* * *

The meeting went well. The man made both Jim and the Master swear an oath to remain pacifistic towards their organisation, and they both agreed solemnly to do so. Jim had no idea if the Master meant it. Jim certainly didn't.

Seb remained at the corner table, sipping at a pint of beer and reading a newspaper. The gun didn't even make a bulge in his coat. Loki followed instructions, reading a book and pretending he wasn't there. Jim had nearly forgotten the entire charade by the time they finished their negotiations.

"That's great, boys," the man said, standing up from the table to shake their hands. "Thank you."

"Our pleasure," the Master said charmingly. "We aim to please."

"Oh, and you have," General Shan agreed emphatically. "I like you two. In fact, I would like us to get drinks to celebrate our new arrangement. I know a place- it's not far from here- and I think you will like it. It is much more… how can I say this? _Upmarket._"

"That's very kind, but we try to keep a low profile," Jim said. The man waved it away.

"No, no, it will be fine. I promise. It would mean a lot to me."

"Of course," the Master agreed, cutting Jim off. "It would be an honour." He looked pleased for the first time since they had arrived. Presumably this was more the kind of treatment he had been expecting.

"Are you done with business, darling?" Loki called, overhearing and closing the novel.

"Not yet," the Master said, adding a "dear" at the end to try and soften the force with which he had spat it.

"Don't worry, he can come too," General Shan said. "So can the one in the corner pretending he isn't with you."

Jim's heart froze for a second, and he wondered if they had jeopardised the whole deal. But if Shan had realised Seb had a gun, he wasn't mentioning it.

"That's alright," the Master said. "They won't want to-"

"I'd _love _to," Loki said, smiling serenely.

"And me," Seb agreed, standing up. "If you don't mind me and Jim tagging along with you and Loki, that is," he said to the Master. The Master did a very interesting thing with his face.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Loki said. He turned to General Shan. "Where are we going, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Just this way," the General said, ushering them out of the door.

'Just this way' turned out to be into a very run-down block of flats. Jim and Seb looked at each other, and Seb lightly touched his hand against the concealed gun. _Don't worry. _Jim nodded in acknowledgement. _As if I was going to._ The Master and Loki remained very far apart the entire time. The Master chatted animatedly to General Shan, in much higher spirits now that he was out of the grungy bar.

They walked the six flights of stairs, the General apologising for the out of order elevator. There was a pounding music playing somewhere high above, muffled but growing louder as they climbed higher. They reached the top floor, and saw that one of the doors had two homeless looking men slumped by it. As the five of them approached, the men sat up.

"They with you, Shan?" one said. The General nodded, and they both clambered to their feet.

"Are they bouncers?" the Master asked doubtfully.

"Disguise can be important in order to remain unnoticed." Jim shot the Master a '_told you so' look. "_Trust me," Shan continued. "You really don't want to get on the wrong side of these two."

"You flatter us," the one on the right grinned. "Okay, go on in."

When they opened the door, light and sound suddenly blared out. They were ushered through quickly, and the heavy door slammed shut behind them. The space was huge- most of the top floor apartments had been converted into the one huge club. The Master was visibly impressed by the cleverly hidden space, but as his eyes adjusted his smile dropped away.

"Welcome to 'Cherry's Jubilee'," the General announced proudly. "My friend Cherry owns it- opened for the diamond jubilee. Clever, no?"

Jim wasn't entirely sure that the Queen would approve of the sheer number of barely clothed men writhing in cages, but he did have to appreciate the wordplay.

"I thought you would like it," Shan said, clapping an arm around the Master's shoulders.

"… I like all the pink," he eventually replied.

"It's a very accepting club," the General told Jim and Seb. "Straight, gay, bi, trans, anything and everything. If you'll excuse me, I'll catch you boys later." The General disappeared into the pulsating crowd.

"You can laugh all you want," the Master addressed Jim and Seb, who were busy doing just that, "but I landed us a very good deal, and now I'm going to get very drunk to celebrate. Try and ensure I get home in one piece."

"Can't Loki do that?" Jim teased.

"Oh, no. Loki," the Master said firmly, "is going to pay."

* * *

The rest of that evening was firmly devoted to what Jim and Seb fondly remembered (and the Master and Loki denied having any memory of) as 'the gay off'. The logistics of it were relatively simple- whenever either Loki or the Master got close to a girl, the other would appear and scare her off.

There was something very amusing about watching Loki's face when he suddenly found himself being torn away from the stunning dark haired girl he had been inches away from kissing- especially when it was to instead be pawed at by a hysterical man, babbling about vows and adopted children and anniversaries.

"Those two could out-act anyone from Hollywood," Seb said, in awe, as the most recent woman stormed away, looking guilty and disgusted.

"They're going to run out of women soon," Jim said. "Do they actually expect to date any of them?"

"I'm not sure they even know anymore," Seb replied, leaning against the bar. "Do you sell beer?" he asked the bartender.

"Uh, no. We're a little more creative than that here," the man- the kind who wore sunglasses indoors and had an 'ironic' moustache- sneered.

"Then I'll have your least creative jug of alcohol, please," Seb said.

"Are you lot ready to leave?" the Master said, strolling back over. "Not that this hasn't been fun, but I'm pretty sure I've beaten Loki on every available level now."

"I only just got to the bar," Seb protested.

"Hey, we've been here nearly two hours. It's not my problem if it takes you that long to figure out how to order a drink."

"We were watching you two," Jim explained. "Thank you for a _very _entertaining show."

"You're welcome. I won, of course," the Master said, bouncing on his heels. "It's almost scary how bad Loki is at everything he does."

"You sure about that?" Seb said, gesturing. Loki was talking to what was quite possibly the only woman in the entire bar that they had yet to make to feel like a home wrecker. She was young, blonde, and very much the Master's type.

"Oh my god, that poor angel," he said, appalled. "What is she doing near _him?_"

"I think she's being seduced," Jim said, as Loki whispered something in her ear and she giggled, before nodding vigorously. "Pretty successfully, I'd say."

"That simply won't do. I'll be right back, boys. Save me a victory drink."

"Here goes round nine hundred," Seb said, sliding a shot glass towards Jim across the bar. "I don't even know what this is, but it's good."

"Thanks," Jim said, downing his glass. It tasted like strawberries and acid. Loki and the woman were leaving, but the Master caught hold of Loki's arm just in time.

"Oh, for God's sake-" Loki began, clearly exasperated. Before he could continue, though, the Master had firmly grabbed his face in his hands and kissed him, hard. Jim nearly fell off his chair laughing at the pure magnitude of shock and revulsion on Loki's face.

"What are you doing with my boyfriend?" the Master demanded of the woman, who slapped Loki very hard across the face.

"Asshole," she hissed, stalking off.

"Gotta admit, boss, this is way more fun than any job we ever worked," Seb said to Jim, who had to agree.

The Master's look of victory didn't last long, as an indignant scream pierced through the air. The crowd parted and twisted to reveal a rather overweight blonde woman in very tight denim shorts. All the blood drained from the Master's face.

"Laura-" he began.

"I knew it!" she screeched, pointing a finger at him. "I fucking knew it, Harold Saxon!"

"No- no, this isn't-"

She slapped him- also very hard across the face- at the very moment that General Shan magically reappeared by Jim and Seb's side.

"What is going on?" he cried. The Master twisted around.

"Nothing!" he said manically. "It's all fine!" He lowered his voice. "Laura, please-"

"Don't you _ever _contact me again," she growled. She stamped out of the club, her backside following half a second behind. The Master trailed over sheepishly to the bar, Loki following innocently. Seb pressed drinks into their hands.

"Saxon," General Shan said sternly, approaching the Master, who downed his drink in one gulp.

"Hello," the Master began. "I'm so sorry about-"

"You said 'non-violent'," General Shan said, speaking over them. "That didn't seem very non-violent to me."

"Well, that wasn't really _violence _as such-"

"Did you lie to me?" Shan questioned. "If your organisation is not, in fact, a peaceful one, then I can assure you the Black Lotus has no intentions of remaining with it."

"I- I-" the Master said helplessly.

"I'm so sorry, sir," Seb broke in. "I think they must have been drugged- they'd never usually be so outlandish otherwise."

"Hey, I am not-" the Master began indignantly and Jim kicked him hard in the shin. Luckily, Shan didn't notice.

"It's so sad," Seb continued. "Look at the poor things. They have no idea what they're saying."

General Shan looked doubtful. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, definitely. Here," he said, pressing a small wad of money into the General's hand. "I need to take my friends home, so please enjoy some more drinks on me. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

"No problem," the man said, brightening. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. You really are such nice boys." He wandered off back into the crowds, placated. As Jim watched Loki pick up a glass and elegantly sip from it, a thought struck him.

"Loki?" he asked out the corner of his mouth.

"Yes?"

"Just how much of that did you plan?"

"I don't know _what _you're talking about," Loki said, finding the bottom of his glass very interesting. "If Laura happened to get a phone call telling her to come here for some very important reason, then that's not really any of my business."

"And Shan's conveniently timed appearances? The pair at the pub? The fight?" Loki's knowing smile was the only answer Jim would get.

"Well done, by the way," Jim said, turning back to Seb. _This 'leaving it up to others' business has its merits._ "The Master certainly owes you one."

"I most certainly do _not_," the man in question objected. "I could have handled that without your ridiculous lies." Seb looked up casually, like he had only just remembered the Master was there.

"Wasn't lying," he said. The Master no doubt had a very angry answer to that, but it was cut off by his crashing to the ground. Loki followed suit less than a second later. People nearby began to scream, pointing at the bodies slumped on the ground. Several people pulled out their phones, and familiar bursts of light were soon coming from the crowd.

"Aww, fuck," Jim muttered, turning his back to the camera flashes and hunching over. "I swear to God, we are the worst kept fucking secret in London."

"Has anyone checked their pulse?" somebody asked.

"They're dead!" someone else shouted.

"Date rape! Date rape!" one woman was continually squawking like a car alarm.

"Excuse me? Do you know those two?" a man asked, grabbing Jim's shoulder.

"What? No, sorry. Never seen them before in my life," he answered. People swarmed around the Master and Loki, carrying their unconscious bodies away like ants. Jim lay his head down in his arms. _How did my life end up here?__  
_

"Cheer up, boss," Seb said.

"Those fucking idiots," he groaned into the smooth wood of the bar. "We're going to have to go and get them back, aren't we?"

"No rush," Seb said. "If we're going to regret this, we may as well do it properly." He neatly slid another cocktail over. Jim sat up, considered this, and drained the glass.


	5. Honey, I Renamed The Kids

**Awkward author's note: on our continued journey of 'what even is canon', Loki's not a shape-shifter here. I know he is in the comics, but I'm pretty sure he's not in the movies- at least not to the 'completely separate person' point- and I'm using them as my main base.**

**I'd apologise, but if you're reading this fic looking for a rational and canonical presentation of characters, you're going to be incredibly disappointed.**

**I love you all for reviewing/story alert-ing/favouriting and generally showing support to this batshit series. I know that the instalments are really long and- just to warn you- there could be many more yet. This is simply way too entertaining **_**not**_** to write.**

* * *

It had been nearly four months since Jim had started on his much-regretted journey to form a team. Much to his dismay, they were beginning to fall into patterns, into familiar ways. The fighting hadn't decreased, but lately, he couldn't shake the feeling that their hearts weren't in it. They hadn't needed to debate whether or not another trip to a distant A&E was necessary in _weeks._

Whilst on one hand, it was nice to feel he was running an organisation rather than an asylum, it was also incredibly unnerving. When the Master had broken two of Jim's fingers, he looked almost ready to apologise, and that was downright creepy. All the same, Jim decided to push the worry aside and focus on business. And so it came about that one day in late August, he managed to get hold of a very interesting case.

"Alright, talk to you then," he said, putting the phone down.

"Who?" the Master called from his horizontal position on the sofa.

"New client," he said.

"Anyone we know?"

"Surprisingly enough, no. The 'new' part of 'new client' does tend to suggest that."

"What kind of job?" Seb asked.

"Missing persons. We've got a man to find."

"I rather believed it was our job to _create _missing persons. Not the other way around," Loki said, breezing in with the sceptre dangling loosely from his hand.

"Loki, where do you keep coming from?" the Master demanded. "Do you hide near doorways so you can wander in halfway through a conversation? Can't you stay in one place?"

"I'm a busy man," he said. "We can't all lie around all day."

"Hey, I've only been here since… four."

"But it's only three o'clock now."

"I meant four in the morning."

Loki gave him a withering look and dropped down into a chair. Jim pulled a repulsed face.

"Close your legs, you whore."

"I sit how I want."

Jim debated continuing the argument, decided very definitely against it, and sat down next to Seb on the other side of the room. The Master swung himself up from his reclining position to sit on the back of the sofa, due to what Jim assumed to be some lizard-like desire to be higher up than his rivals.

"Missing persons?" Seb asked Jim. "Much as I hate to agree with him, is that really our thing?"

"This kind of guy is our kind of thing," Jim said. "He owes his drug dealer a _lot _of money."

"Who's the dealer?"

"Panther."

"No," Seb said.

"I know you don't like the name, but-"

"It's ridiculous. I'm not using it."

"Unfortunately for you, people don't tend to deal drugs using their birth names."

"And not many people run a crime business using their birth names, but we do."

"Not all of us."

"You do."

"Not always."

"Nearly always."

"I've used Rich Brook before."

"Who has since been debunked as a fake."

"I can make _another _Rich Brook."

"You can't have 'Harold Saxon'," the Master said immediately. "That one's mine."

"I really don't understand why you'd use an alias," Loki said to the Master, sounding genuinely confused. "Don't you _want _people to know what you've done?"

"Yes, but I like to be in possession of multiple firearms when I tell them."

"Shockingly enough, we're digressing," Jim said. "This guy owes Panther-"

"I'm still not calling him that," Seb insisted.

Jim spread his arms. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Call him something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Clive or something."

"_Clive?_"

"Why not?"

"How is Clive even slightly better?"

"At least a name like 'Clive' _knows_ it's ridiculous. 'Panther' sounds like a forty-nine year old man with a four inch cock. He probably drives a sports car with flame decals."

"You put far too much thought into that analogy," the Master remarked.

"There has never been a drug dealer named Clive," Jim said. "Ever."

"There you go, then. It's unique."

"That isn't-"

"Clive," the Master nodded. "Individual."

"No chance of confusion."

"Clive the Panther."

"Clive the drug dealer."

"Clive the drug-dealing panther." The Master and Seb burst into laughter. Loki looked amused, but had clearly decided that giggling like a five year old was beneath him.

"So what did this 'Clive' want?" he asked Jim.

"One of his clients- a man named Myers-" Jim began.

"Now, Loki, when you say 'Clive' it sounds weird," Seb interrupted.

"It does? Why?"

"You're supposed to be this impressive Norse figure-"

"I_ am_ an impressive Norse figure."

"Well, 'Clive' is not an impressive Norse word."

"We can change his name if it bothers you that much."

"Ahh, no, I'm used to Clive now," the Master complained. "Besides, since when has Loki been an impressive anything?"

Loki idly swung the sceptre to strike the Master hard in in the face.

"Fuck!" he spat, holding his hand to his nose. "You asshole, I'm bleeding!"

"Anything broken?" Jim asked.

"No, don't think so."

"Pity," Loki lamented.

"Then quit squabbling and listen. Our man, Myers, owes a lot of money to his drug dealer. Said drug dealer let him know he wasn't exactly happy about that, and Myers fled. He's in hiding now."

"And why is that our problem?" Loki asked. "It all seems rather… petty. I thought they had their own people for tracking down this kind of thing."

"They do usually, but they don't think it'll work this time."

"And why not?"

"Myers is under the protection of Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes!" the Master crowed, bouncing in place. "Oh, about time! I have been looking forward to this for _months_."

"Interesting," Loki mused. "Definitely worth our time."

"Are you fucking insane?" Seb demanded, ignoring everybody else. "Do you not remember what happened the last time you dealt with him?"

"I talked him into jumping off a building?"

"You shot yourself in the head."

"I got better."

"Funny. Jim- maybe you should give this one a break."

"Nah, it'll be fine."

"I mean it. This guy is bad news."

"Did I say 'fine'? I meant 'fun'. It'll be fun."

"Seriously, stay away from him."

"I think Sebastian is getting protective," Loki said.

"Don't start with me," Seb warned.

"I mean, I'm sure he can look after himself," Loki continued.

"I'm serious. I am eighteen different kinds of not in the fucking mood."

"This is fairly erotic," Jim muttered to the Master, who didn't seem impressed.

"You don't have to hold his hand _all _the time, you know," Loki pressed.

"Oh, fuck you, Frosty."

There was a moment of slightly stunned silence, and then the Master began to laugh hysterically.

"_Frosty?_"

"He's a Frost Giant," Seb shrugged.

"But _Frosty_."

"Yes, very funny," Loki said.

"It is," the Master nodded vigorously. "It's very, very funny."

"Yes."

"_Frosty."_

"Yes."

"Do you have nicknames for all of us?" the Master asked. Jim felt as though he was rapidly losing control of the situation.

"I don't think of them in advance or anything, if that's what you mean," Seb said. "They just seem to fit at the time."

"Tell me some that you've thought of for me," the Master demanded. Jim felt that it was probably time to give up on business.

"Nah."

"Come on."

"I'm not going to."

"Come on, you bastard."

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

"Okay then. There's Arse, Bastard, Twat, Shithead-"

"Alright, maybe-"

"- Shit-Eating Bastard, Shitstain, Wankstain, Arsehead, Fuckhead, Fuckface, Fuckhead, Fucktard, Fucking Shit-Eating Arsehead and Supreme Commander of The 'Who Even Gives A Fuck For The Love Of Fucking Christ Please Just Stop Talking' Division."

"… is that all?"

"Think so. Oh, wait- Badger."

"_Badger?"_

"You see, your suit-"

"Jim wears a suit!"

"- plus, y'know, I don't really like badgers."

"I think we know what Sebastian's doing whenever he's quiet now," Jim marvelled. "He's silently listing swear words." He paused. "And animal names."

"Isn't that what everyone does?"

"What about Jim?" Loki asked. "Are there names for him?"

"No!" the Master interrupted. "I am not listening to those two list pet names for each other. I'll vomit. Everywhere. All over the place."

"You might do that anyway if Loki hits you again," Seb said. "Concussions are pretty easy to induce, I'm told. Pretty sure we'd all be happy to give it a go."

"Should I give this 'work' thing one final attempt?" Jim asked Loki, who shrugged.

"I quite honestly could not care less."

"Grand. So our job is to track Myers down- that's it. We don't need to get him out, we don't need to get the money from him, we just need to supply Panther-"

"I think you'll find his name is Clive."

"- with the address. But to complicate things further, not only is our man under Sherlock's protection, there are only two people in the world that could possibly know where he is."

"Who?" Loki asked.

"His kids."

"We have to harm children?" Loki asked, suddenly sounding uncertain.

"Is that a problem for you?"

"I admit I am not overly comfortable with it."

"Why not? It's fun."

"I'm going to suggest you don't say that too loudly in public," the Master said.

"Oh, calm down, would you?" Jim said, annoyed. "We're not going to kill them, we're not going to hurt them. We're going to do something much more difficult and much more terrifying."

"Which is?"

"We're going to talk to them."

* * *

"Four men without children hanging around a play park. Tell me again why this was a good idea?" Seb hissed. Jim would very much like to say it was an uncharacteristically cold August day- but in reality, it was a perfectly characteristically cold August day.

"I've done my homework, Sebby darling."

"I will punch you so hard that your face comes out the back of your head."

"No sweet talk, dear, we're on a mission. Their foster carer takes them here every Friday, at around 4PM. It's ten to four now, so we won't be have to wait around for much longer."

"Okay, but why are we _all _here?"

"I'm here because this is my client. You're here as backup."

"What, in case the kid pulls a gun?"

"In case Sherlock turns up and starts throwing temper tantrums. Are you telling me you'd turn down a chance to shoot him?"

"You shouldn't tease a man."

"Loki's here to talk to the children, and the Master is here because we can't leave him alone in the flat for that long."

"I'm not a _puppy_," the Master sulked.

"That's true. I've never heard of a puppy breaking into somebody's s secret supply and replacing their incredibly expensive, well-aged red wine with Ribena."

"It was Ribena Light, actually. The shop was out of the normal kind."

"Noted."

"I thought Sebby darling was our public face," the Master whined.

"Okay, him saying it I can just about cope with," Seb objected. "_You _saying it will get you suspiciously bitter, almond flavoured coffee."

"Oh, like you don't have worse names for me. All you call Jim is 'boss'."

"He doesn't even call me that anymore." He paused for a moment and then turned to Seb. "_Why_ don't you call me that anymore?"

"People don't usually live with their bosses."

"And technically, you don't. Though you used to, and you called me 'boss' then."

"Yes, but then you shot yourself in the face and lost a few privileges."

"Nobody's answered my question yet," the Master said. "If Seb's our public man, why is _Loki _talking to the children?"

"I'm good with guns. Loki's good with words," Seb said. "You've got to play to your strengths."

"He has strengths?" the Master asked. "Where is he anyway?"

"Getting changed."

"He couldn't do some fairy illusion rubbish?"

"This is safer. Holmes doesn't kid around- we're gonna be very careful here."

"You're sure Sherlock knows you're alive?" the Master asked Jim.

"Yes," Seb and Jim replied in unison.

"How?"

"He's Sherlock," Jim said.

"So why hasn't he come after you?"

"That's not his way," Jim shrugged. "He keeps himself busy- if I stay off out of his sight, he'll stay out of mine. Remember that time I got you to point a gun at him, Seb? At the pool?"

"Oh, yeah. Good times."

"Afterwards, what did he do? Did he come looking for me?"

"No… no, I think he visited a dominatrix."

"I may have underestimated this man," the Master said.

"Look who's here," Seb muttered. Exiting the small public toilet and clutching a carrier bag was a tall, slim man. His dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he wore a light grey t-shirt and dark jeans. He looked about nineteen. He leant against the railings, pulled out a mobile and awkwardly tapped at the screen. Jim's phone buzzed moments later.

"Are you a vampire or something?" Jim demanded as his greeting. "You're so pale that your skin is more or less glowing."

"That's pretty gay," the Master said seriously, but shut up when Jim began mouthing the word 'Cherry'.

"I am uncomfortable with how often I have to wear t-shirts on these assignments."

"Loki, you wear a _cape _at home. A _cape._ You cannot tell me this isn't more comfortable."

"Did you really just say 'home'? How horrifyingly domestic."

"I- what are you doing? Are you putting sunglasses on?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's about eight degrees. There _is _no sun."

"They're very useful to shield the-"

"You look like a hipster, for fuck's sake."

"I don't know what that means."

"Then feel very lucky, and take them off."

"And again?" the Master asked disgustedly. "What are you asking him to take off? There are children here, Jim."

"We're wasting time," Loki said down the line. "Who am I looking for?"

"Chloe and Noah Myers, aged six and eight respectively. Both blonde, Caucasian, blue eyes. Their foster carer is Leah Jones- brown hair and eyes, black-rimmed glasses, five foot four. They should be arriving within ten minutes."

"I am to ask about their father?"

"Try and do it with some subtlety. They'll have been warned not to talk to strange men, and you definitely qualify as a strange man."

"I think I'll take that as a compliment. Oh, is that them?"

"Where?"

"To my right, coming through the gate."

"Let me check," Jim said, minimising the call and flicking through his photos. "Yes, that's definitely them," he said, returning the phone to his ear.

"And what about the woman?"

"Leave her to us," Jim said. The children ran off into the park, and Loki flipped his phone closed.

"Alright, who taught him how to use a mobile phone?" Jim demanded.

"That was me," Seb said. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You realise there is now _nowhere_ he can't bother you?"

"I said 'at the time'. We all make mistakes."

"Should we make a move?" the Master proposed. Seb nodded.

"C'mon, Badger, it's your time to shine," he said, clapping his hands on the Master's shoulder.

"Is 'Badger' sticking? Please tell me 'Badger' isn't sticking."

Seb pushed him forwards, not overly gently. Fixing himself on Leah Jones, the Master turned on the charm and made his way over.

"Let's sit down," Jim said, grabbing a nearby bench. Seb followed.

"I guess it does seem more natural," he consented, sitting down.

"More natural than a group of men in suits standing and watching children, yes."

"I'm not in a suit."

"And that is an utter waste."

* * *

"I'm really sorry, but do you know what the time is?" the Master asked apologetically. The woman sat on the bench checked her watch.

"It's fine, don't worry. It's five to four."

"Oh, thank you. Sorry, it's just that I have to have my little boy back to his mother by half four. I really don't want to overrun," he said.

"Don't you have a watch or anything?" she asked. He shook his head.

"My mobile broke last month, and money's kind of tight right now. I'm trying to get save enough money to buy another one, but life keeps getting in the way."

"Tell me about it," she laughed. "I've been saving up to replace my car for at least five years now. I don't think I have a penny more than when I started."

"Sounds familiar," he grinned. "Sorry- do you mind if I sit here for a moment? I want to keep an eye on my son. I won't bother you, I swear."

"No, it's fine!" she said, moving her handbag off the seat. "I'm Leah."

"Harry," he said, giving her his best charming smile. "So which one's yours?"

"I'm actually a foster carer."

"That explains it."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh God, sorry- that sounded awful, didn't it?" he said, blushing. "I meant that- if you don't mind me saying, Leah, you seemed far too young to have a child."

"Oh, stop," she said, giggling.

"No, I mean it. You're what, twenty-one?"

"I'm thirty!" she said.

"Seriously? You look incredible on it," he told her. And she leant in slightly, and he asked her more questions about herself, and she began to answer enthusiastically. Jim gave Loki a surreptitious thumbs up.

* * *

It had been a long time since Loki had had to speak to children. Granted, he had often wondered if Thor was mentally still a toddler, but this was something rather different. Chloe and Noah Myers sat in the grass, ripping up flowers with their hands.

"I wanna make a daisy chain," the little girl was saying.

"Again?" he complained. "Chloe, we did that _last _week. I wanna play a game."

"There's not enough of us for a game," she said.

"We could get other kids."

"They won't listen to us."

"They _might_," he said stubbornly.

"But they won't."

"But I want to play a game!"

"Hello there," Loki said brightly, spying an opportunity. "I overheard you talking. Did you two want some help getting the other children to play with you? If so, I could help."

"How old are you?" the girl asked, looking up at him seriously. Loki hesitated.

"I'm six and one-quarter," she continued. "Are you bigger than that?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "Yes, I am. Should we find out if the others want to play?"

The girl looked over at her big brother, who considered this and nodded.

"Okay!" she said brightly. "My name is Chloe and this is my brother and his name is Noah and he is eight but he's nearly nine but he's still eight until next month. What's your name?"

"Lo- Tony. Tony Stark."

"Hello Tony Stark," she said. "Should I call you Tony Stark or just Tony or something else?"

"Tony is good," he said. "Let's see about these others, okay?"

"Okay, Tony," she said happily, slipping her hand into his and smiling up at him.

* * *

"That's terrifying," Seb said, watching.

"That the kids trust him that easily, or that the kids trust _him _that easily?"

"Both." They watched as Loki began to speak to the other children, and soon he had gathered a Pied Piper like following. "Do parents not find this questionable?"

"I'm guessing he looks innocent enough for it to work out."

Loki turned towards them for a second, the little girl babbling away happily, and they groaned in unison.

"_What _is that look?"

"Sappy bastard."

"Can someone remind him that's not actually his daughter?"

"Jim, out of all the people you could have hired, did you really have to get one with so many abandonment issues that he turns into a dog with a stick the second someone says hello?"

"Hey, if it works, it works. We probably can't count on him to hurt the kid if he has to, though."

"He's not going to have to though, is he?"

"I-"

"_Jim._"

"Okay, okay, no. The kids won't get hurt."

"Swear?"

"You people and your double standards," Jim grumbled. "I promise."

"Good, because Loki's still got his 'protective older brother' face on." The children had started what looked like a game of tag, and Noah caught Loki within seconds. He laughed good-naturedly, and continued with the game.

"How's do you think the Master doing?" Jim asked after a few minutes.

"Probably five minutes and another coffee away from her phone number," Seb said. "Those two have tongues made of silver or something."

"They're not _completely _useless, are they?"

"All I can do is shoot a gun. I feel kind of inferior."

"Really?"

"'course not. Talking's for sissies."

"Speaking of sissies, I'm getting concerned," Jim confided. Loki finally tagged somebody as 'it', and was caught again in less than five seconds. He laughed again, but it seemed forced.

"How come?"

"Everybody seems to be getting less violent. There's less hate in the air."

"Good for living together."

"Bad for business."

"If you think this is what love and kinship is like then I seriously worry about your childhood."

"Nah, nothing as obscene as friendship. But come on, you must have noticed it. We aren't fighting as much, it's more teasing than abuse, none of you will hurt the kids-"

"Would you?"

Jim looked over to the game, where another child had just been made 'it'. She honed in on Loki- who was, by now, looking very irritated indeed. He was caught within ten seconds.

"I don't know," Jim eventually said.

"Really?"

Jim nodded glumly. "Don't know if I have it in me anymore, Seb."

Seb chuckled. "How about that?" he said. "The consulting criminal with a conscience."

"It's not funny. What if I _am_ losing my touch? Going soft? How do you set up a criminal empire when you can't be a criminal?"

"Tell me your first thoughts in relation to these words: John Watson."

"Kill."

"Mycroft Holmes."

"Kill."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Kill. Death. Murder. Bastard, guns, fire, rope, torture. Knives. Lots of knives. _Sexy_ knives."

"Yeah, I think you're gonna be all right."

"I- Loki! Loki, _no- _Seb, give me the phone."

"What's he doing?" Seb asked, pulling out the mobile. "Why do you need my phone?"

"To tell the bastard that he _cannot _use his fucking holograms to win games of tag."

* * *

"So who do you live with?" Loki whispered. The game had changed to hide and seek at Jim's insistence, and he had managed to fold himself inside a climbing frame. They were waiting to be 'found', and he was determined not to waste any more time.

"Leah," Chloe whispered back.

"Is Leah your mother?"

She shook her head. "Don't have one. I've got a daddy, though."

"Why don't you live with him?"

"I used to. He had to go away."

"Where did he go?"

She hesitated.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You can tell me."

"He's living in London with a very nice lady and that's all I know," she said, somewhat mechanically.

"What's the nice lady's name?"

"I can't remember."

"Oh, that makes sense. You're only six. Six year olds can't remember _anything._"

"I'm six and a quarter!"

"You're still too little to remember properly, though."

"I am not! Her name is Mrs Hudson and she lives in Baker Street and daddy is living with two men and he's using the upstairs bedroom and they're sharing the one bedroom downstairs. And the nice lady said that she knew _that _was only a matter of time but when I asked her what she meant she just went quiet and gave me another biscuit and asked me not to tell them she said that. So there, I do know!" she said firmly.

"Thank you, Chloe," he said, going to leave. "That will be all, I think."

"No!" she said, clutching at his sleeve. "They'll know where we are!"

"It doesn't matter."

"Stay!" she said fiercely. "Tony, stay!"

"Chloe, I need you to let go."

She looked up at him with huge blue eyes. "I don't want you to go," she said pleadingly.

"I…" he hesitated. "I suppose I can stay for a _bit _longer."

"Yey!" She curled herself next to him. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Whatever you want."

This turned out to be a very dangerous thing to say to a six (and a quarter) year old.

* * *

"Did you get what we need?" Jim asked Loki as he approached.

"Yes, I did. He's with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in Baker Street."

"Seriously?" Jim said. "They're stashing him in their _flat_?"

"I know. It's almost alarmingly arrogant."

"And the kid told you this?" Seb checked.

"The young girl, yes."

"Chloe?"

"Chloe Lillie Myers. She's six years and three months old. She wants to be a princess or a superhero when she grows up, her favourite colour is orange, and apparently she loves her father more than anything else in the world," he said quietly.

"What are you saying, Loki?" Jim asked warily.

"I think you know, Jim."

Jim glared at Loki in disbelief and Loki looked coolly back.

"We can't do it, can we?" Seb said eventually, and the stand-off dissolved. "We can't hand this guy over."

"I don't think we can, no," Loki said softly.

"But- I- fuck it," Jim said, hanging his head. "Fine, okay, no. We won't."

"Good call, boss," Seb said, with something that might have been warmth.

"We'll see about that," Jim said. "But Clive- Panther, I meant Panther! What do we tell him?"

"Tell him we couldn't get it. Kids were too well protected, Holmes is too dangerous."

"Even if he _doesn't _try and kill us, that's going to ruin everything. Destroy our reputation and all we've worked for. We can't afford that."

The Master bounced over, beaming from ear to ear. "I just got a very excellent offer involving a bed, a bottle of wine, and some book to do with varieties of grey. How have you been doing?"

"We can't do it," Seb said flatly.

"What?"

"We aren't going to give Myers over," Jim explained.

"And why not?"

"His children- we can't," Loki said.

"The decision's made," Jim said, before the Master could interrupt. "Okay?"

For once, though, the Master didn't complain.

* * *

The taxi ride home was tense and silent, and they didn't speak again until they were all inside the flat.

"We need to decide what to do about Panther," Jim said.

"Cli-"

"If you value your life, do not. Listen, this man is vicious. We're talking breaking kneecaps, slitting animals' throats- I can guarantee you right now that _he_ won't think twice about going after the children if he has to. How are we supposed to protect our reputation _and _keep the psycho off our tracks?"

"Isn't it simple?" the Master said. "We kill Clive."

"We kill the biggest and best protected drugs boss in London?"

"I don't see a reason why we _shouldn't_. He's not going to pay us, after all, and it would open a delightful niche in the market for us to step into."

"I like it," Jim said. "Seb?"

"Sure thing, boss. Can you get the details?" he asked the Master.

"Real name and address by… tomorrow morning, I'd think. You got a strategy to get in?"

"Jim and I will come up with one," Loki said. Jim had a vague recollection that this was what efficiency felt like. And then the Master spoke again, and the world was restored to its rightful order.

"Makes a change from me doing all the work and you three freeloading," he said.

"Excuse me?" Loki said in disbelief. "I did all of the work on that case. All you did was drool over a woman several _centuries _too young for you."

"All you did was drool over little kids!"

"That's not funny."

"It kind of is. Whichever way you want to cut it, you're a bit of a waste of space."

"That really is amusing when it's coming from _you_."

"Can you two not-" Jim began.

"Meaning?" the Master said.

"Meaning your only contribution is to lie inside all day doing nothing."

"And all you do is agree with what everybody else says. You're like a more depressingly coloured parrot."

"I'm of significantly more use than you."

"Not unless we want a crash test dummy."

"If one of us had to die, I'm almost certain we'd all choose you. We'd celebrate over it. There would be a competition to see who got to wield the knife."

"Isn't this nice?" Seb said.

"Shut up, Seb," Jim scowled.

"Me? Really?" the Master laughed. "Loki, your own _family _didn't want you."

"I really don't think you had ought to bring that up."

"Why not? At least _my_ father-" the Master was cut off by Loki, in one swift movement, grabbing him around the neck and hurling him through the large glass window. It shattered in an explosion of tiny shards that would leave cuts on Jim's neck and hands for weeks afterwards.

Jim and Seb stood and listened. After a few seconds, there was a loud thud as a body hit the ground.

"Have you killed him?" Jim asked, sounding a little like a father reprimanding a son. "You _know _you weren't supposed to kill him."

"I wouldn't worry. He landed in the rubbish bags."

"Uh, Frost Face?" Seb asked. "You knew those garbage bags were going to be there, right?"

"… let's go with 'yes'," Loki said.

"You know what I was saying before?" Jim said to Seb. "About us going soft? You can probably forget that."

* * *

Whilst Jim stood by what he had said, when they visited the Master in hospital the following evening, they did bring grapes. And chocolate. And vodka in a mineral water bottle, which Seb only drunk half of on the way there.

The Master was asleep when they arrived, so Seb spent half an hour drawing a very detailed picture of a badger on his cast. Jim spent the time covering it in equally detailed pictures of cocks. Loki flicked through a magazine.

"I wonder if he'll kill you," Jim said idly as they were waiting. "Defenestrating people isn't usually taken kindly."

"He could still die," Seb pointed out helpfully. "That would solve things."

"I rather hope he doesn't, all the same," Loki said. "Though some mild paralysis wouldn't go amiss."

"Or amnesia," Seb agreed, flicking on the dusty and near-microscopic television.

"Oh God, let it be amnesia," Jim said eagerly.

But when the Master woke up, his first words were "this round to you, fuckface," to Loki, with a grin that was best described as somewhere between 'vicious' and 'proud'.

And Jim looked at Seb, and Seb looked at Jim, and Jim wondered if there was any crossover between 'psychopathic serial killing crime based organisations' and 'relatively helpful child protection companies'. Whether he could spend hours vividly detailing ways to choke every person in the flat to death and yet care for them on a very strange, very very deep part of his subconscious.

And then he realised that 'Lethal Weapon' was showing on another channel, and it really was much easier to steal the remote control from somebody with a broken arm, and that was his philosophising over for the day.


	6. Vatican Cameos

**This chapter is… a bit different. Consider it a one-off. As for time streams/continuity/positions in various series, I genuinely don't even know. Choose a time, any time. Your guess is as good as mine!**

* * *

Jim's morning was going well until the Master walked in and closed the door behind him, whistling merrily. _This can only be a bad thing._ He turned and beamed at Jim, who sighed and slipped his mobile back into his pocket.

"What?"

"I am cast-free!" the Master announced proudly.

"I can see that." Jim raised an eyebrow. "They weren't suspicious that it only took four weeks?"

"Why should they be?"

"Usually when a person is thrown out of a very high window, they have a few more injuries than a remarkably quick-healing broken arm. Did they try and take your pulse?"

"Tried. I was rather resilient."

"Yeah, you probably shouldn't have gone to hospital."

"Then you probably shouldn't have _taken _me."

"You were unconscious."

"I was resting."

Jim shrugged. "Whatever. Blame Seb, he was the one that suggested it."

"Speaking of Moran, where is he?"

"At home. He doesn't actually live here, remember."

"Could've fooled me," the Master muttered, but he left it at that. "And where's Loki?"

"Through there. Why?"

"No reason," the Master said cheerily, heading in the direction Jim had pointed. Jim heard the Master close the door and then, a few seconds later, the sudden and violent sound of shattering glass.

Jim sighed.

* * *

Loki hit the ground with such an impact that he thought it actually shook slightly underneath him. He groaned, annoyed by the pain in his body and the even more painful reminders of a previous, similar situation. At least the perpetrator this time was a genuine alien and not a freak science experiment. He heard footsteps running over and groaned again. _This is the last thing I need._

"Yes, all right, go ahead and mock," he sighed, rolling over. "I have no idea how you got down here so quickly, but as-" He stopped mid-sentence. Two strangers stared down at him, mouths open.

"Are you okay?" the first man said frantically, reaching down towards him. Loki swatted him away irritably.

"Yes, everything's fine." He hauled himself upright, peeling himself from the concrete. The two men looked at each other.

"Are you _sure _you're okay?" the other asked warily.

"Of course." Loki got to his feet and brushed his clothes down, fragments of glass tinkling from his cape.

"Interesting, uh, dress."

"Oh, um- costume party," he smiled apologetically.

"Costume party at eleven in the morning?"

"Costume party that led you being thrown from the top of the building?" the second man added, crossing his arms.

"I had a… disagreement with a colleague."

"About what?" the man asked incredulously. Loki pretended not to hear.

"I must be going," he excused himself.

"Wait," the first man said, holding out an arm to block him. "You fell out of a _window._"

"Yes?"

"A top floor window," the other man added.

"And?"

"How are you not dead?"

"I suppose I'm very lucky," Loki said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be getting back."

"What, they can't cope without you up there?"

Loki smiled and shrugged helplessly. "I am the man that brings the party. Thank you for your concern, but I can assure you that it's unnecessary." He pushed past the men and strode back towards the building, mentally compiling a list of undetectable poisons. In the street, the two men stood and watched with something like suspicion on their faces.

* * *

"You missed it," the Master said as Seb shut the door behind him. "I threw Loki out of the window."

"What a shocking and unforeseen development. Hey, can you make me some?" he asked Jim, who was spreading butter onto a piece of toast.

"I can."

"Will you?"

"Nope."

"Your kindness is a thing of legend." Seb dumped a newspaper on the table. "I brought you one of these, since nobody here ever buys the damn things."

"We just use the internet," the Master objected. "Jim's fine with me borrowing his laptop."

"If you touch my laptop again I will pull your intestines out through your eye sockets," Jim warned. He had finally gotten around to buying his own, personal computer, separate from the work one. The Master was determinedly ignoring the word 'personal', and so far Jim had changed the password fourteen times in twelve days.

"You shouldn't be so selfish, Jim," Seb scolded. He reached over and snatched the piece of toast Jim was about to bite into out of his hand. "It's bad for the soul."

"If I smashed you around the head with this plate, would _that_ be bad for my soul?"

"Dunno, but you still wouldn't have your toast back," Seb said, biting into the toast and opening the paper. "Hey, this could be worth looking into. 'The Case Of The Vatican Cameos'."

"What the fuck is a cameo?"

"I'll tell you if you give me a chance. They're kind of like broaches, it says. They've usually got the face of some dead monarch nobody cares about carved on them."

"Is this you hinting at me to buy you jewellery?"

"Shut up. Basically, this shipment of very old, _very _valuable cameos went missing recently on their way to Buckingham Palace." He looked at them over the top of the paper. "Either of you know anything about that?"

"Don't you think we might have mentioned it?" the Master said.

"I really wouldn't put it past you to steal a few million pounds worth of valuable goods and then neglect to mention it to us."

"Actually, neither would I. But no, it's not mine."

"Not mine either," Jim said.

"Where's Loki?"

"He's alive, if that's what you mean. He's gone out somewhere."

"Is that sensible?"

"Is Loki?"

"Point taken. Doesn't really sound like his kind of thing anyway, does it? Shame. It'd be good if we could get hold of the things."

"So we can turn them over to the police?"

"No, dickhead, so we can sell them on and make ridiculous amounts of money."

"Just checking we're on the same page," Jim said. "I'll keep an eye out. Go on then, tell me the other fascinating things they've featured."

Seb turned the page. "Another beheading."

"Boring," the Master said.

"Maybe not. It was Jonathan Winters."

"Who?"

"You know, Jon. The husband- well, ex-husband now- of _Maggie _Winters."

"Seriously?" Jim said. "That's the fourth person we know now."

"And the sixth overall," Seb said, reading on. "What the fuck is going on, Jim?"

"I don't know," he said, "but I'm starting to think we should look into it. Our contacts are dropping like flies."

"Who _beheads _people?" the Master said disapprovingly. "It hardly keeps you out of public attention."

"He's managed to kill six in a month and not get caught," Jim said.

"I don't know if I want to kill this guy for screwing up our trades, or recruit him for being kind of badass," Seb said.

"In the nature of our work, it's usually both."

"And you're _sure_ we're not orchestrating these?" the Master checked. "It does sound like something you'd do, Jim. No offence."

"None taken. But nah, it's not one of ours."

"You sure?" Seb said. "You haven't checked the planner for a while."

"I think I'd remember scheduling mass beheadings."

"You forgot where you put your keys yesterday."

"Only for a couple of minutes."

"Really? So where are they now?"

Jim hesitated. "In a safe place."

"Which is?"

"… safe?"

"Stunning," the Master said.

"Oh, get lost. No, we aren't beheading people right now, we're focusing on drugs. You know that. Anything else?"

"Not much," Seb said, flicking through. "Though this could be difficult- we're supposed to be seeing Maggie later today."

"Yeah, I know. So what?"

"_So, _her husband was just viciously killed. She might not be in the mood for talking." They all looked up as the door opened and Loki walked in. His face was sticky with blood and he was limping slightly.

"Morning," the Master said cheerily. "Where have you been?"

Loki glowered, and held up a box of bandages. "We've run out, and the glass is actually _in _my skin in several places."

"Only several? I must be losing my touch."

"You went into the chemist like _that_?" Seb said.

"I was served rather quickly."

"Okay, okay," Jim said. "So what are we doing about Winters?"

"I say we send the least psychopathic people we have." Jim and the Master turned to look at Seb and Loki respectively.

"I am a bringer of darkness," Loki said, entirely sincerely.

"Of course you are."

"I'm psychopathic," Seb sulked.

"Psychopaths don't watch Disney movies."

"I was ill!"

"Save the bickering for your next date," the Master interjected. "Loki, take a shower and call a cab."

"I don't think-" Loki began to object.

"I could handle it alone," Seb scowled.

"Sorry, boys, company policy," Jim said.

"What, so that we're less likely to get hurt?"

"No, so that if one of you starts giving away details, the other can shoot them," the Master explained. Jim nodded emphatically.

"It's nice to work somewhere with such this much interpersonal support," Seb said.

"If I killed all of you in the next five seconds, _then_ would you believe that I'm psychopathic?" Loki asked curiously.

"We'd be dead, so we wouldn't really be able to say," Jim said.

"But still no," the Master confirmed.

"Loki, come on," Seb added. "At any given time you're one Adele song away from an emotional breakdown." Jim looked at him. "What?"

"_Adele?"_

"She's not that bad!"

"Don't even talk to me."

* * *

Seb knocked on the woman's front door. Loki had patched himself up but was glancing around, seemingly confused by something. "Everything okay?" Seb asked.

"I don't recognise that car," Loki said. Before Seb could reply, the door opened a crack, held tightly by the catch.

"Boys," Maggie said, eyes alarmingly wet. "I'm so sorry, dears, I'd completely forgotten that you two were coming around. Now isn't really a good time, I'm afraid."

Seb wondered why Maggie, a woman who tended to use 'fuck' as a replacement for 'and', was suddenly speaking like a caring and aged aunt.

"Is everything okay, Mrs Winters?" a voice said from behind her.

"Yes, thank you, dear. These are some friends of mine. I'm afraid you probably can't stay, boys- I have company."

"No, it's fine. We were just leaving," the voice said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," another voice said. "If you need anything else, we're only a phone call away."

"You two are very kind. It's so good to have the support of the church."

"It's no trouble. We try to-" And then Maggie swung the door open properly, and the man's words trailed off mid-sentence as both priests stared openly at Loki.

"Costume party still going?" the shorter one eventually said.

"What?" Seb frowned.

"Never mind. See you around, Mrs Winters," the taller man said, and then they both barrelled past. Seb and Loki watched as the two priests climbed into a car- the one Loki had pointed out earlier- and drove away, seemingly arguing about something.

"Do you know them?" Seb asked Loki.

"No," Loki replied. They turned back to Maggie, who was scowling.

"Thank fuck that piece of fuck is over," she sighed. "Come in and have a brandy. I know I fucking well need one."

They followed her in and sat down to discuss heroin trading.

* * *

"Hey, Moran," the Master said as Seb and Loki walked in. "Settle an argument: The Bee-Gees or the Scissor Sisters?"

"As in 'who would I prefer to put through a meat grinder'?"

"Very funny. But seriously."

"I _am _being serious," Seb said, draping his coat over the chair and sitting down heavily. "Maggie's fine, by the way."

"Not surprised," Jim said. "It'd take a lot more than her husband's grizzly murder to upset her."

"She did have priests around."

"Priests?"

"I know. It was weird," Seb said. "If Maggie's Catholic, then I've got eight dicks."

"As revolting as that mental image is, she did say that she isn't religious," Loki said. "Apparently the priests came around to offer their condolences regarding Jonathan's death. They were very insistent about it."

"She said they were pretty weird," Seb shared. "Asking lots of questions about Jonathan's behaviour, his relationships, his purchases…"

"So the church is bent. So what?" Jim said. "I'm Irish, that hardly comes as a surprise. Did you actually discuss business or did you just fantasise over men in dog collars?"

"Funny, that's really funny," Seb said. "Nah, it's all sorted. Everything's in place. She's going to-"

Just then, there was a knock at the door. They all glanced at each other uncertainly- except for the Master, who immediately disappeared into the other room mouthing 'I was never here'. _So much for solidarity, _Jim thought bitterly.

"Maybe it's time for us to move somewhere more inconspicuous," he murmured.

"Damn fucking straight, it is," Seb hissed. "If that's the police, I'm going to kill you and paint 'Jim Moriarty Fucks Goats' on the walls with your blood."

"And as delightful a legacy as that would be, I don't think it's going to be necessary. If it _is _the police, I'll deal with it. Don't worry your pretty little head- chances are it's just a client."

"One that comes directly to where we _live_?" Loki queried.

"A stupid client. A very, very stupid client, who won't be alive to be stupid for much longer."

Seb nodded warily. "I'll get the door. _You _do not need to be seen by the police right now, and _you _are holding a fucking alien sceptre. Both of you get in the bedroom and don't come out until I tell you to."

"That's hot."

"_Jim._"

"We're going, we're going. Come and get me if things get nasty. I don't want to miss the fun." The two of them wandered frustratingly slowly into the other room, shutting the door almost lazily behind them.

Seb gripped the gun in his pocket as he opened the front door a crack. When he saw who was stood there, he released his hold on the weapon and opened the door properly.

"Uh, I think you might be lost," he said.

"I don't think so," the priest said, smiling. "My name is Father Williams, and this is my colleague Father Walsh."

"Pleasure to meet you," the other man greeted.

"Yeah, definitely lost," Seb said decidedly.

"We met earlier," Father Walsh said. "We just wanted to come and see if you were okay. You're a friend of the Winters family?"

"Um, no. Not really. Maggie's a colleague. That's all."

"All the same, we'd like to talk to you."

"You're seriously talking to the wrong guy here. It's a nice gesture- uh, Father- but it's really not necessary." He tried to shut the door, but Father Williams put his foot in the way.

"Listen, son," the man said. "We'd _really _like to talk to you. Just for a few minutes. Then we'll be gone."

"And I'd really like you to fuck off," he said in disbelief. "I've told you, I'm fine."

The two men gave each other a confirmatory glance, before the taller one spoke again. "The thing is that we could actually use your help. It's on a church matter."

"And you think I know things about the _church_?"

"Please, just… give us a few minutes of your time. It's important." The man looked at him with huge, beseeching eyes. He reminded Seb of a little boy who had dropped his ice cream in the sand.

"Fine, whatever," Seb said disgustedly. "Five minutes, max."

"Bless you," Father Williams grinned, and led the way in.

"Does anybody else live here with you?" Father Walsh said, sitting down. Seb looked at him.

"Are you old enough to be a priest?"

"What?"

"Never mind." Seb sat down opposite them. "No, it's just me. So what do you want to know?"

"Were you left anything in Jonathan's will?"

"No. Like I said, I barely knew him."

"Did he ever give you anything at all?" Father Walsh urged. "Money, letters, jewellery…"

"Okay, how is this a church matter?" Seb demanded.

"I'm afraid that's confidential."

"I'm afraid that's bullshit."

"Either way, you're not gonna get to know," Father Williams said.

"At least tell me what it is you're looking for."

"We're looking into the disappearance of several Vatican cameos," he relented. "They're these-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what they are," he said. "But isn't this kind of thing the police should handle?" Seb asked. Father Walsh shot the other man a look that screamed 'I told you so'.

"They're church property," Father Williams said firmly. "Besides, sometimes people can refuse to talk to federal agents due to a fear of authority, or for… other reasons."

"By which you mean people with dirty secrets will run a mile if someone in a uniform comes near them, but a priest is fair game?"

"Something like that," the man agreed. "We need to you to know that if you've acquired these cameos through… less than legal means, we won't inform the police. That information will never leave this room."

"Why the hell would I have the things?"

"We get the impression that you're involved in a kind of trading. That and the fact that you knew Jonathan made us think you might know something."

"I don't."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes._"

"How about your friend?"

"Who?"

"The tall man? Dark hair?"

"Weird clothes?" the other priest added.

"Oh, him? No, he doesn't know anything either. Besides, I barely ever see him."

"Really?"

"Really. I have no idea where he is right now."

And at just that moment, the bedroom door opened and Loki pushed his way in. He looked at the two priests sat on the sofa and they looked at him, and then everybody looked at Seb.

"Ah, fuck," he muttered.

* * *

Jim started talking as Seb opened the door. "I know, I know, but the asshole point blank refused to stay in here any longer."

"This is where I came in," Seb sighed. Jim looked at him blankly for a moment, before the song title clicked, the code translated itself in his head, and he was on his feet.

"W_hich _authority figure?" Jim hissed. "Ahh, Jesus fuck."

"It wasn't my fault! Blame Loki."

"I will, if we don't all get thrown in jail. Do you know how much effort it is to get four people out of prison?"

"Jim-"

"I mean, I can do it, but it's still not how I want to spend the next few hours of my life."

"Jim-"

"Okay, not _hours, _but definitely at least one. More or less." He thought about it. "Thirty minutes, tops."

"Would you shut up for a second? It's not the police."

"The FBI?"

"No."

"Who, then?"

"Um… priests?"

"… _priests?"_

"Yeah. Two of them."

"Wait, hold on. Hold on, hold on."

"I'm holding on."

"You're telling me that the safety of our enterprise is being threatened by an authority figure, and that that authority figure is _priests_?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I don't know why I let you fucking assholes touch a damn thing." Jim swept past him, muttering angrily. The pair of priests were sat on the sofa, and Loki was sat opposite them. The priests turned and smiled at him as he entered.

"Hello," one said.

"What are you doing here?" Jim demanded.

"Looking for jewellery, looking for me," Loki said, sounding bored. "I'm not entirely sure why. They don't seem S.H.I.E.L.D's type."

"We're from the church," one of the men tried saying, but Jim shook his head firmly.

"Nope."

"But-"

"No, you're not."

"We-"

"Give it up, Sam," the shorter man sighed, and he ripped his dog collar off bitterly. "I _told _you it wouldn't work."

"And I told _you _that they'd already seen us in the priest get-ups," the other man hissed. "It was way too late for FBI."

"We could have made something up!"

"Oh yeah, sure, right. 'Hey, we're FBI agents that moonlight as priests'. Great idea, Dean."

"Can you two shut up?" Seb interrupted. They fell quiet. "Thanks."

Jim sat down. "You are going to tell us everything you know," he told the men, calmly and patiently. "You are not going to lie or try and hide anything, or you will very much regret it. Okay?"

"Okay," the shorter one- Dean- said grudgingly. "We're here about the missing cameos. We think your friend here knows where they are."

"Please don't call Loki our friend," Jim said. "It's downright offensive."

"Why do you care about them anyway?" Seb asked. "If you're not actually priests."

"You really don't want to know," Dean said.

"Try me."

"Okay," Sam said, after a cursory glance at Dean. "Here's the thing. This is going to sound really, really weird, but bear with me, okay? Sometimes, old objects- paintings, dolls, cameos- can have… spirits attached to them. Angry spirits."

"That's ridiculous," Seb said.

"Maybe so-"

"It's stupid."

"Yeah, well-"

"You're stupid."

"And these spirits," Sam continued, voice louder than was strictly necessary, "sometimes they hurt people. Those beheadings? They weren't done by humans. We did the research- well, _I _did the research-"

"C'mon man, that's not fair. Cas needed me to help him out with something."

"Dean, he wanted you to show him how to use an _ice machine._"

"What can I say? The guy trusts me."

"Get on with it, please," Loki said.

"Right, okay," Sam said, distracted. "So I did the research, and get this. Turns out this man was murdered, way back in Roman times, for a crime he didn't commit. His spirit got angry and, somewhere along the line, it must have gotten attached to a cameo. From then on, every person that came into possession of that cameo was murdered in the same way he was."

"Beheaded?" Seb guessed. They nodded. "So you're trying to find this thing and what, destroy it?"

"Yeah, but that's not all. That whole shipment of cameos got stolen right after we took the job. We think that somebody slipped the haunted cameo in with the normal ones; covered it up so we couldn't tell which one to burn."

"Why?" Loki frowned.

"Some people are dicks," Dean said. "Some people are demons as well, but we won't go into that right now."

Everybody not in a priest outfit looked confused. Sam shot a glare at Dean, before continuing.

"All you need to know is that there are some things out there that really like to give the rest of us a bad time, and that's what's happening here. If we can find the cursed cameo then we can destroy the spirit, and stop anybody else from dying."

"If it's that simple, then why are you here telling us about it and not out there, you know, doing it?"

"We don't know what it is that wants that spirit out and killing people, but we know that it's… probably not human. It's supernatural. And we saw your friend fall out of a top-story window and get up without a scratch on him. That sounds a lot like somebody who's been possessed."

"What?"

"By a demon," Dean finished darkly.

"What?" Seb repeated. Dean suddenly grabbed a flask from within his jacket and hurled the contents violently over Loki, who didn't move. He sat perfectly still, glaring frostily at Dean who was looking more confused by the second.

"But- how are you-"

"Listen, you idiots, Loki isn't a demon," Seb said.

"Definitely not," Jim agreed. "He's way too- what?"

The two men were on their feet, staring in shock. "What did you just call him?" Dean stammered out.

"Loki?" Seb said unsurely.

"As in Loki the trickster?" Sam said warily. Loki grinned proudly.

"I have gone by that title, yes."

"No, no, that doesn't make any sense," Dean muttered. "We've seen 'Loki', we've _met _'Loki'! He doesn't exist."

"I can assure you, I do," Loki said, unsure of whether to be amused or offended.

"Not you," Sam said, shaking his head. "His name is Gabriel, and he's not- well, there's not- Loki isn't real, okay? He's myth. It's all Gabriel."

"The angel?" Jim queried.

"Arch-angel, actually," Sam said distractedly.

"I am _not _an angel," Loki said in disgust. "And I am definitely real."

"Dean, what if he's a genuine Trickster?" Sam said, turning away from the group. "I mean, they _do _exist."

"What, and he just happens to have the same name as Gabriel's weekend job?"

"Could be. Maybe the legends got crossed over or something."

They turned back to the other three, who were watching them with vague interest.

"What can do you do?" Sam asked straight out.

"What do you mean?"

"As in powers," Dean supplied. "You know, changing reality… inventing things out of nothing… any of that ring a bell?"

"No."

"Not at all?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how the hell did you make that landing?" Dean said in frustration. "No human could do that."

"I'm not _human_," Loki said, having definitely decided on 'offended'. "I'm a Frost Giant, of Asgard."

Sam looked pained. "… I don't think there's a chapter in Dad's book for that."

"So are you a Trickster or not"? Dean said, clearly frustrated.

"Who the fuck knows?" Seb said, spreading his hands. "He's Loki. He's a dick. That's enough, isn't it?"

"The real question is why you two came to capture what you thought was a demon wearing C_atholic priest _outfits," Jim pointed out.

"I told you!" Dean hissed. "I swear, if Cas was here-"

"Well, as sad and as sexually frustrated-"

"_Hey._"

"- as I'm sure it's making you, Castiel _isn't _here. He's back in America."

"Which is where we should be."

"Come on, Dean, you saw how much money we got offered for this. There's no way we could have turned it down. Just because you-"

"This has nothing to do with the planes!"

"Oh, sure. _Sure_."

"Are you two always like this on business?" Loki said in disbelief. They looked down guiltily.

"Pretty much, yeah," Dean admitted.

"I know the feeling," Jim lamented. "Either way, it's time for you two to _go._ No offence, but we have literally no interest in helping you."

"None at all," Seb agreed.

"Hold on," Dean said. "Frost Giant?"

"Yes," Loki confirmed.

"Seriously?"

"Is there a problem?"

"I've never heard of one of those things, and I've heard of most things."

"I don't know what you want."

"You always look like this?"

"No, not always."

"Show us what you normally look like."

"Why should I?"

"'cause I want to see."

"'I want' doesn't get. Trust me, I should know."

"Show us your true form, you son of a bitch, or we'll _make _you."

"One second," Loki said politely. "Can they do that?" he muttered to Jim out the corner of his mouth.

"How the fuck should I know?"

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. "Very well." Getting to his feet, he waved his hand slightly. A wave of blue rolled across his skin- his eyes turning red, patterns creasing across his skin. The faux-priests both stared openly. One looked at Jim questioningly.

"Don't bother," he said, staring. "This is news to me."

With a slight tilt of his head, Loki's normal pale skin flowed back into place. "Frost Giant," he repeated firmly.

"Dangerous?" Sam asked faintly.

"Not dangerous," Jim said.

"Really not dangerous," Seb agreed.

"I _am_ dangerous."

"Shut up, Loki."

"I almost enslaved the planet."

"Shut _up_, Loki."

"Wait…" Sam said, eyes widening. "You're not- that thing in New York? I mean, I know that guy _called _himself Loki, but we thought-"

"Time to leave!" Jim said brightly, before Loki could admit anything he would later regret. "Have a good day, boys."

"If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to fuck the fuck off," Seb grunted. The two of them looked at each other, but apparently decided they had bigger things to worry about, and let themselves be shown out.

"See you around," Dean said as they reached the door.

"No, you won't," Jim said sunnily, before shutting the door in their face. He turned around and leant heavily against the wall. "What the _fuck _was that?" he groaned.

"I have literally no idea," Seb said. "Angry spirits? Do we believe that?"

"I've heard of stranger things," Loki said thoughtfully. "Jim?"

"I have no idea. I don't really _want _to have an idea."

"Then just do what I do," Seb suggested. "Drink a lot and pretend it never happened."

"I like your style."

"I'll tell you one thing, though," Seb said. "We are _definitely _moving."

* * *

"Hey, check this out," Seb said. "Says here that they've found the missing cameos."

"You'd have to invent a new scale to measure just how little I care," the Master said.

"We're the ones that had to deal with the weirdo priests," Seb protested. "_You _hid out back and fell asleep."

"And a damn fine job I did of that too."

It had been about a week since they encountered Sam and Dean, and they had filled the Master in on the basics of things. There had been no more beheadings since, so Jim guessed that they had managed to track down the cameo and do whatever they needed to do. He didn't care enough to try and find out.

Initially, Jim had been concerned for his own safety: if every person he'd ever harmed could hang around as an angry spirit, he was fucked at least five hundred times over. But after a few minutes, he had gotten over it. It'd take more than Casper the unfriendly ghost to interfere with his plans.

"But you still really want us to move out?" Loki said, dismayed.

"He doesn't even live here!" the Master said, exasperated.

"He's right, though," Jim said mournfully. "The last thing we need is more do-gooders like those assholes showing up. If we want to keep going, we've got to go undercover."

"That's the _opposite _of what we should do," Loki disputed. "We cannot inspire fear from a cheap motel room."

"Speak for yourself," the Master yawned. "Just because you couldn't inspire fear in a three year old." He got up off of the sofa. "Right, I'm going for a piss."

"Thank you for that life changing update," Jim said as the Master left the room. Jim looked over at the others and groaned. "Oh God, not again."

"What's the matter?" Loki said innocently.

"I know that face. That is a scheming face."

Loki grinned. As Seb and Jim watched, the blue haze coated his skin again, entire appearance changing into something not-quite human.

"You alright, Smurf?" Seb said. Loki glowered. The effect was somewhat more impressive than usual when his eyes were painted scarlet.

"Play along," he said. Jim sat back and watched as the Master walked in.

"Alright, so- what the fuck?" he shouted when he saw Loki, jumping back. Loki blinked.

"What?"

"What the fuck is wrong with your face?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean that you're fucking _blue._"

"Excuse me?"

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Jim asked, concerned. The Master spun around to face him.

"You mean you don't… Seb," he said, turning towards Seb. "Oh, Seb, Sebastian. Light of our lives, voice of near-reason. What do you see when you look at Loki?"

"Is this like psychoanalysis? Because if so, I see my mother's breasts and a large, winged penis."

"No, no, shut up. I mean, what does he look like to you? Physically?"

"Uh… skinny, pale, pre-pubescent?"

Wide-eyed, the Master backed away. "This isn't _fair_," he wailed. "I haven't even _touched _the water." He turned fled back through to the other room. Smiling even more broadly than before, Loki let the colour ripple away.

"That was _mean,_" Jim said approvingly. "What are you going to do when he finds out?"

"Oh, I almost forgot," Seb said. He reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. "Here's the stuff you asked for. Careful not to open it in a confined space."

"Thank you," Loki smiled charmingly, taking the vial and sliding it into a pocket. "What were you saying again, Jim?"

"… so Seb, about that date..."


	7. Affection, The Supervillain Way

**A/N- the ridiculous length of chapters makes up for the sporadic update schedule, right?**

**Also, you may have noticed that this fic has a new description to reflect where it's going. It's still utterly ridiculous crack, but with more characters and a kind of plot****. Okay, not ****so much a 'plot' as a 'direction I intend to vaguely wander in', but whatever.**

**Thank you so much for the continued support and lovely reviews!**

* * *

It was late September, and the leaves were beginning to colour and fall. Some mornings, Jim sat and stared out the window, examining the foliage for any signs of change. Most mornings, he stumbled out of bed and poured coffee down his throat until he managed to convince himself to open his eyes, but the leaf-watching sounded more poetic somehow.

Seb was still insisting they moved out- despite still not _technically_ living with them- but, for the moment, the Master had convinced them to stay in the flat. Whenever the topic came up, he somehow managed to twist the conversation to 'well, I suppose if you're _afraid…' _That naturally led to 'of-course-I'm-not-afraid', which inevitably caused an argument over who was or was not a coward- and, on one notable occasion, whether or not a velociraptor could take out Batman.

(Verdict: depending on the climate and technology available, the outcome could swing either way.)

Jim remained torn. Moving was the only way to be safe, but he didn't _want _to leave their airy and impressive flat to shack up in a crappy motel room. He was used to secrecy, but not to _hiding. _Loki, on the other hand, didn't much seem to care.

"What's up with Frost Face?" Seb asked one day, dumping his bag on the table. He had skipped out on the early morning business call, citing 'it's four A.M and I'm fully prepared to torch your building down if you phone again' as an excuse.

"Jim's fault," the Master called from the other room.

"It is not!"

"It is."

"Definitely is," Seb agreed.

"You don't even know what he's talking about."

"I don't need to. It's _always _your fault."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"Because there was no way any of us saw that coming," the Master said.

"So what _is _up with Loki?" Seb asked.

"I… may have introduced him to a new method of entertainment," Jim said vaguely.

"Are you telling me you taught Loki how to wank?"

"Please never ever put those words into anything resembling that order ever again," the Master begged. Jim had to agree.

"Christ, no. We were beating up this client-"

"- as you do," Seb nodded.

"- when his iPhone fell out. And, well, you know we taught Loki to use a mobile…"

"He seized the guy's phone?"

"Oh, even better," the Master said. "Jim gave him it."

"What?"

"He asked!" Jim defended himself.

"Do you want your death to be slow and painful or swift and _very_ painful?"

"I didn't think!"

"That's pretty obvious," Seb said dryly. "Fuck, it was bad enough when he learned to text. What am I supposed to do now he's got access to the internet? And photo messaging? And Facetime?"

"Get a crappy old Nokia and sell your phone," Jim suggested.

"You sell _your _phone." Jim looked like Seb had suggested he offer his firstborn child for sacrifice.

"Speaking of phones," the Master interrupted. "We got a new message on the work phone."

"When?"

"Earlier."

"And you didn't want to mention that?"

"Sure I did. Just now."

"Who was it?" Jim asked, picking up the mobile and dialling for voicemail.

"No idea. Number withheld."

"What's the message?"

"Phones record messages for a _reason, _you know." Glaring, Jim hit the speakerphone button.

"New message," the phone announced. "Received today at: eleven thirty-four AM. From: number withheld. Message follows:"

The message began to play out. Jim's eyes met Sebastian's, and the look that passed between them was grim. "Fuck," he muttered softly.

"It took him a while," Seb said ruefully. "I could have sworn he'd already…"

"Maybe we overestimated him."

"Or maybe we're getting the meaning wrong?"

"What else could it mean? Why would he have waited until now? C'mon, Seb."

"Eugh. I _told_ you we needed to fucking move!"

"In my defence, this is a _mobile _telephone. Moving wouldn't change the number."

"But if he knows our number, you can bet he knows our address."

"Can somebody please tell me what's going on?" the Master demanded.

"It's a code," Jim explained.

"Thanks, genius, I'd never have guessed that. What does it _mean_?"

"It means that Holmes has found us," Seb finished grimly.

"What? Play it again," he demanded.

Jim obliged, and The Master listened intently. When it finished, he looked up at Jim and Seb and frowned. "I don't get it. All I hear is somebody playing 'Staying Alive' on violin."

* * *

"Don't touch anything."

"Sure, fine. Everybody work on showering, eating and sleeping without touching anything."

"Very funny," Seb said. "You know what I mean."

"Not really," the Master said. He picked up a sealed box and rattled it. "Hey, what does this do?"

"It's a bomb that activates when picked up and shaken."

"Cool." He put it down and moved on. Seb scowled.

"Jim, control your pet," he complained.

"Hey, you volunteered."

"I did no such thing."

"You said- and I quote- 'even my fucking flat would be better than this'."

"I didn't mean it!"

"Too late," the Master said cheerily, and sent a vase crashing to the floor. "You didn't want that, right?"

"It's been nearly five minutes and nobody's had their head pushed through a wall," Jim said, raising his voice over the loud stream of swear words. "Did we leave Loki somewhere?"

"Good question," Seb said grudgingly. "Did anyone actually tell him we were going?" Jim shrugged in response, and Seb disappeared off to check outside.

"I tried to make sure everybody kept quiet about it," the Master said.

"He's not a dog," Jim scolded. "You can't open the car door, throw out a tennis ball and drive away."

"Are you suggesting we get Loki microchipped?"

The front door opened, and Seb reappeared gripping the bemused man firmly by the arm. He steered Loki into a chair, where he sat down heavily without looking up. "He was still in the car."

"Is he _still _on Doodle Jump?"

Seb glanced down to the screen Loki was tapping frantically at. "No, he's moved onto Temple Run."

"Seriously? He'll be telling us that 'Snake' is state-of-the-art gameplay soon," Jim said. "Should we be intervening?"

"We've got bigger problems," Seb reminded him. "What do you think Holmes' plan is?"

"I don't know," Jim said. "But you can bet it's more convoluted than 'inform the police'."

"How come?" the Master asked.

"Holmes is such a drama queen that he puts Jim to shame," Seb said.

"Impossible. It can't be done."

"Good showmanship is not the same as showing off," Jim sulked.

"Sure it is. They even both have the same word in them. 'Show'."

"As fascinating as this English lesson really fucking isn't, shouldn't you be doing something more productive?" Seb asked.

"Like what?" the Master asked, wandering over to the window.

"Like looking for a flat? In a place that isn't here?"

"We only arrived ten minutes ago," Jim pointed out.

"Yeah, and you've only got six anger management strategies left before I run out and start using your head for target practice."

"Is now a good time to tell you that a police box just materialised outside?" the Master said casually.

"That depends on exactly how much hallucinogenic you've been consumed in the last twenty-four hours," Jim said.

"Almost none," the Master said haughtily. "The TARDIS tends to take on the shape of a police box, that's all."

"What?"

"Yeah, he claims it got stuck that way, but really-"

"No- the TARDIS?" Seb repeated.

"Yeah, that one."

"As in the Doctor? As in 'the oncoming storm'? As in a powerful alien hell-bent on fucking us over?"

"More like the oncoming _raincloud_," the Master snorted. "Last time I saw him he cried a lot and hugged me."

"Sexually confused rivals are clearly a universal problem," Jim observed.

"So not only have we got Holmes and Watson on our tails," Seb cut in, "we've got somebody whose résumé includes taking down an alien spaceship using a _satsuma_?"

"I knew I'd regret telling you that story," the Master muttered. "And there were swords first. The swords were probably more important." He paused. "And it's probably not even _true. _I bet he made it up."

"Okay, no, shut up. Everybody shut up. Shut your stupid faces and stop ruining my life for just five seconds."

"What's going on?" Loki said dazedly, looking around blankly.

"Seb's having a bit of a crisis," Jim said, patting him on the shoulder. "Nothing to worry about." Loki nodded, soothed, and returned to his game.

"Does the Doctor know you're here?" Jim asked the Master. He pulled a face.

"The TARDIS locates threats and takes him to them. Could be it thinks we count as a legitimate threat."

"Poor, misguided machine," Jim said sympathetically.

"You are not leaving the house," Seb warned the Master. "I'm not having them finding where I live."

"Are you grounding me?"

"_Yes. _Same goes for you," he said, turning to Jim.

"Aww, but _Seb_-"

"No buts," Seb cut him off. "If you wanted to go outside then you shouldn't have pissed off a high-functioning sociopath and a nine hundred year old alien."

"I feel like you know much more about our enemies than is necessary," the Master complained. "It makes me feel inadequate. You don't care that much about _me._"

"I'm not even dignifying that with a response."

"You just did."

"It's like watching children squabble," Jim grinned.

"_I'm _a child?" Seb repeated incredulously.

"He's right," the Master agreed. "Seb's more like a really old babysitter who won't let you stay up past your bedtime and then complains that she doesn't know how to work the television."

"And _I_ put too much work into analogies?"

"If the shoe fits…"

"It's alarming that Loki is actually causing the fewest issues right now," Jim said.

"He's easily distracted," the Master shrugged. "See, you can-" He reached out to pick up Loki's sceptre. In less than two seconds, he found himself pressed up against the wall, face twisted hard against the painted bricks. His arm was pulled up and trapped behind his back, and Loki had a small but very sharp dagger pressed to the back of his neck.

"I don't suggest trying that again," he said measuredly. He glanced back at the phone on the chair behind him, and released the Master. The dagger disappeared somewhere back into the expanse of leather and straps that passed for Loki's clothing as he scooped the mobile back up protectively.

Seb glanced idly over at them, before speaking again. "So, about Holmes."

"I could handle it. Easily."

"Are we going to ignore the fact that Loki nearly sliced my jugular open?" the Master demanded. "Does nobody care about that?"

"I'm sorry, how thoughtless of us," Jim said. "You're right, let's talk about that at length. Exactly how quickly _did _he get you into that hold?"

"The way you fought back really was very impressive," Seb added.

"Oh yes, very funny," the Master said.

"I thought that you really showed him with that bit where you froze up and whimpered slightly."

"I did not whimper!"

"Don't worry, it was a quite a manly whimper. But my favourite bit was-"

"Yes, okay, I get it!" he said, much more loudly than was necessary. "So we're under house arrest?"

"Yes," Seb said firmly. "Well, Loki isn't, but I don't think he'll be going anywhere all the same."

Loki suddenly let out a cry and they all jumped. "What?" Jim said.

"What does it mean?" He jabbed his finger against the 'on' button, over and over. "Why won't it turn back on?"

"It's out of battery, genius. What, you didn't think to steal a charger too?"

"I…" Loki said desperately.

"Luckily for you, I've got an old one in a drawer somewhere," Seb said.

"And that'll fix it?" Loki said, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Yeah, if you give it an hour or so and give _me _a series of reasonable, monthly payments."

"An alternative offer: if you allow me to use this 'charger', I _won't _cut out your eyeballs whilst you're sleeping."

"Nice try, but you don't know where I keep my knives."

"Then I'll use a spoon."

"Would that work?"

"Would you like to find out?" Loki grinned. Seb sighed.

"Fine, whatever. I'll plug the damn thing in if it'll mean you shut the fuck up and agree to lie low for a couple of hours... maybe a day. I'm not letting you dicks get me thrown in jail."

"Whatever," the Master said. "As long as you've got a television, everything will be fine."

With a soft ping, the electricity went off.

* * *

"Definitely a power cut," Seb said, returning to the lounge where the three of them sat waiting. "So no charging phones, sorry."

"And no television," the Master said sadly.

"I think my laptop might have a few minutes of battery left," Jim said thoughtfully.

"I'll fight you for it," the Master volunteered.

"I'm not fighting you to use my own laptop."

"Good. That way I get it, _and _I can use your corpse as a footrest."

"Are you really having a breakdown at the thought of a couple of hours without electricity?" Loki said, having recovered from his initial distress enough to mock them. "In Asgard we don't have anything of the sort, and everybody copes perfectly well."

"Until the prince goes insane and tries to commit genocide," Seb pointed out. Loki ignored him.

"So we've got no laptops," Jim said, "no television, no phones, no Internet, and you're not letting us leave the house. What do you propose we do next?"

* * *

"I'll give you five hundred for Mayfair."

"Fuck off."

"Six hundred."

"Nope."

"Four hundred."

"N- wait, what?"

"Four."

"You said six a minute ago!"

"I did not."

"You did!"

"Prove it."

"He said six, didn't he?" Seb asked Jim, who shrugged.

"I'm Switzerland." Loki frowned. "It means I'm neutral," Jim elaborated. "I couldn't care less if I was physically trying."

"You said six hundred," Seb insisted.

"Prove it," the Master repeated.

"Whatever. Doesn't bother me- you're not having it either way."

The Master huffed. "Fine. Five hundred."

"You can take your five hundred and shove it up your-"

"I think he means no," Jim supplied. "My turn."

"I hate this game," the Master sulked.

"Just because I'm winning," Loki said, smiling beatifically.

"That's as good a reason as any to hate a game," Seb agreed.

"How long are we supposed to lie low for?" Jim complained, shaking the dice in his hands. He paused. "Wait, why am I asking? This is _my _organisation. I'm the boss here."

"Of course you are," the Master said kindly.

"I am!"

"We believe you," Loki agreed understandingly.

"You're all going to die in pain and fire."

"And you owe me £50," Loki said, pointing at the square Jim had landed on. Jim gave him a look that had reduced lesser men to tears and stood up.

"I'm getting food," he said.

"Do you have beer?" the Master asked Seb, who nodded. "Then I'm getting beer."

Once they'd left the room, Seb looked at Loki's numerous piles of cards and money and raised his eyebrows. "You _are _winning," he said.

"I had noticed that, yes."

"How are you doing it? You've never even played this game before."

"I use a very complex and innovative strategy."

"Ahh. So you've been stealing the cash."

Still smiling, Loki reached into his boot. He pulled out just enough of a crumpled, brightly coloured £100 note for Seb to see.

"You asshole," Seb said in disbelief.

"Oh, as if none of you are cheating," Loki snorted. "It's not my fault that you're all pathetic at it."

"Hey! I am not pathetic."

"Then appearances can clearly be deceiving, because from _here-_"

"All of your crops on that farm game are dying."

Loki twitched slightly.

* * *

"Hey, pass me another beer," Seb said.

"No can do," Jim said. "We're out."

"What?" Seb said, aghast. "We can't be. I had a fuckton of beers. That is how many beers that I had. A fuckton."

"Well, apparently we _drunk _a fuckton."

"So there's nothing left?" the Master clarified.

"There's always apple juice."

"Loki!" the Master shouted, lifting his head. He had decided, for reasons best known to himself, to lie face down on the floor.

"I'm _right here,_" Loki said in irritation.

"Good, then you can go get us beer."

"Why can't _you_ go?"

"Grounded. 'member?"

"So send Sebastian," Loki sulked.

"He might get noticed."

"I'm a world famous serial killer from outer space, and you think _Sebastian _will attract attention?"

"No, but we like him more than you," Jim said.

"Well, it's more that we hate him very slightly less," the Master clarified.

Loki glowered. "Fine, if you insist. Sebastian, give me your wallet."

"Funny joke."

"Oh, that's right, I was going to pay for the alcohol with Monopoly money."

"Can't you just offer the cashier sexual favours?" the Master called. Rolling his eyes, Seb handed Loki a bundle of notes.

"Shop'll only be open for another hour, so get a _lot_," he said. "And leave the sceptre here."

"No."

"Fine. That is, if you don't think you can protect yourself without it…"

Mumbling insults under his breath, Loki left the flat sceptre-free, taking great care to step on the Master's hand as he went. He didn't seem to notice.

"How much has he had?" Jim asked, staring at the Master.

"I don't know, but he's not drunk."

"Can't _get_ drunk," the Master complained. "At least, not easily."

"Ahh, you'd get on well with Jim. He never gets properly wasted." Seb was slurring his words slightly, having consumed at least half of the drinks, but it took a lot more than beer to keep Sebastian Moran down.

"Losing control, blacking out and vomiting everywhere?" Jim pulled a face. "I like to remember my fun in the morning."

"Prude," the Master complained.

"I robbed a bank for _fun _last week."

"Yeah, but you did it sober."

A short while later, the front door burst open suddenly. "What fresh hell?" Seb groaned.

Loki ran into the hallway and slammed the door shut behind him, panting heavily. When he looked up, three heads were craning curiously around the lounge doorframe.

"Problem?" Jim asked innocently.

"No, I _felt _like running the entire way back," Loki snarled. He stormed into the lounge, picking up the sceptre on the way.

"Where's the beer?"

"In the shop."

"What?"

"On the shelves, in the shop, because I never _got _there."

"Why not?"

"I encountered something… unpleasant on the way."

"Sherlock?"

"The Doctor?"

"Worse," Loki said darkly.

"There is no worse."

"There is, and she's Russian."

"Loki Laufeyson," Seb said warningly. "If you are going to tell me a trained Russian assassin is walking the streets outside my flat, you may find that a trained London assassin snaps your neck like a Twiglet."

"Moran VS Romanoff," the Master whistled. "My money's on the lady."

"I thought you'd have bet on Natasha."

"I'm really glad you two think this is funny," Seb said to Jim and the Master. Anger had sobered him slightly, and now his voice was stern. "It means that I can feel better about kicking you out and leaving you to die. How the hell is it that your three arch rivals are all here _at the same time_?"

"God hates me," the Master suggested.

"God's afraid of my progress," Jim countered.

"I _am_ a god."

"Shut up, Loki."

"Sebby, don't you have an arch enemy?" the Master asked. "Because you're not allowed in the club otherwise."

"I have a lot of enemies," Seb said warily.

"Ahh, but who's number one? Who is it you hate more than everybody else in existence put together?"

"You."

"You walked into that one," Jim commented.

"Come on, give us a name," the Master pressed.

"… John Watson," Seb said, in a tone that challenged anybody to try and fuck with him. Naturally, everybody did.

"Seriously? More than Sherlock?"

"Yep."

"How come?" Jim probed.

"I've got my reasons."

"Yes, and we're asking for them," the Master said patiently.

"They're stupid. Old. No longer relevant."

"So is Loki, but we keep him around."

"Can we please focus on the fact that there's a team of people outside specifically dedicated to hunting us down?" Seb said.

"Been there, done that," Loki said, in the kind of tone that suggested he needed to be flicking through a magazine in order to accurately convey just how few shits he gave.

"Do you have any candles?" Jim asked Seb.

"Objection," the Master said immediately. "There is literally no reason you two could want candles that isn't either uncomfortably intimate or bizarrely ritualistic."

"Try that it's getting dark and that we still don't have any electricity."

"Oh. I suppose there _is_ that."

"I'll go see," Seb said.

"I can-"

"_You _can sit down and shut up and try not to get shot by anyone. Same goes for all of you. And don't go near the windows. Fucking _Christ._"

"I think Sebastian's a little annoyed at us," Jim commented as Seb left the room.

"I heard that, you fucking dickfaced gobshite!"

"A little," the Master agreed.

* * *

Sebastian decided to take a minute out to himself.

_When the hell did _I_ end up being the sensible one? _he wondered as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket. He was lighting a cigarette when he heard somebody moving behind him. He dodged the kick easily, knocked the gun from the woman's hand, and had her pinned to the ground within a few relatively painless seconds.

"Agent Romanoff," he greeted. "That was just embarrassing."

"I called it!" the Master shouted triumphantly from indoors.

"You did not, you said she'd win!" Jim objected.

"Prove it."

Seb looked up. Having heard the commotion, Jim, Loki and the Master had all appeared in the kitchen, leaning out the window.

"That's fine, open yourself up to snipers," Seb told them in disbelief. "I'll keep your bodies and stuff them for an exhibit entitled 'assholes too stupid to live'."

Further argument was stopped by Seb shrieking and falling backwards.

"You really should pay more attention to your surroundings," the woman addressed his slightly twitching form, tucking the Taser back into her pocket. She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Loki."

"Natasha," he said warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was just talking to your brother," she said. He stiffened slightly, but quickly recovered himself.

"Oh, Thor? How is he?"

"Not so good, actually. Apparently his _dick_ of a little brother ran away from home again, and came back to the planet he was expressly banished from. You know, the one where he caused several billion pounds worth of damage, killed countless people, and eventually had his ass _handed _to him by a shy scientist from the physics department. Ringing any bells?"

"Vaguely," Loki murmured. "Ahh, Banner. How _is _the beast? Tell me, Natasha, do you still flinch when he's near you?"

"Bruce wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Oh, I know _he _wouldn't- but the Hulk very nearly did, didn't he? And it's not always easy to tell where one ends and the other begins. Tell me, have the nightmares stopped yet? Or are you still afraid?"

"I've never been afraid in my life."

"Really? Not even when I took Barton?" Something froze in the agent's face. Jim and Seb exchanged a mildly confused glance. The Master looked as though he was considering making popcorn. "You never wondered just how much was still _him_?"

"I see you got to keep your toy," she said coldly, nodding her head at the sceptre.

"This little thing?" he said innocently. "It provides a nudge, that's all. It's certainly not powerful enough to make somebody do something they really, truly don't want to. If somebody _wants _to resist it, they can. They will."

"You're lying."

"Obviously," Jim scoffed under his breath- but no matter what the woman was insisting, Loki's words did seem to be getting to her.

"Tell yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Agent Romanoff."

"Nice try," she said, "but playtime's over now."

"What is it you mean to do, Natasha?" he asked, fingers curling and uncurling on the sceptre.

"Seize you," she said. "The others wanted to wait, but what can I say? I'm eager."

"You're still avenging," he said, lip quirking upwards. "You're still avenging _him_, and he's not even dead_. _How quaint."

"I'm bringing you to justice," she said.

"Putting me on the first flight back home?"

"What do you mean, _home_?" she lashed out. "Because my understanding was that you don't have one. Sorry, are we not supposed to talk about that?" she said when she saw his expression. "Had you not told these three about how your father didn't want you? About how he wasn't your father at all?"

"I couldn't care less," Loki said.

"How about your brother?"

"I don't _have _a brother."

"Good, I'm glad you agree. You see, that's what Thor told us- did you know that? When we said he was your brother, he said 'he's adopted'. He made sure we all knew that. Do you see? It's not just that he doesn't have any link to you, he doesn't _want _one. I'd say that your own family hate you, but you don't even have a family. Isn't that- wait, are you crying?"

"No!"

"You actually are_,_" she said in confusion, tilting her head to the side slightly. Seb coughed, and she looked at him. He took a step forwards.

"Lady, I don't know who you are," he began, "but you're kind of a bitch."

"Excuse me?"

"It's true," Jim agreed.

"I'm sorry, did you miss the part where he-"

"He's the bad guy, he's allowed," the Master dismissed, waving his hand.

"That's not how it works!"

"It kinda is," Jim said.

Seb glanced over at Loki. "You alright?"

"I am _fine_!"

"I think you had ought to go now," Seb said firmly, turning back towards Natasha.

"I don't think you understand," she said. "This man is a criminal. A mass murderer. In fact, you _all _are. I could take you to any court in the world and have you brought down in minutes. As you said- you're the 'bad guys'."

The Master leant forwards.

"Prove it," he said.

"What?"

"Prove it."

"I don't need to, I _know._"

"Do you have CCTV footage of us committing any crimes in the last few months?"

"No, but-"

"Do you have reports from the police detailing _recent _offences?"

"Not really, but-"

"Then _how _do you know?"

Natasha looked lost; presumably this was not how she had envisioned this encounter going. Her face darkened. "It doesn't matter. To be honest, I'm not exactly planning on doing this the traditional way. I don't care much about any of you, but I am not leaving here without Loki. Thor would _prefer _him alive, but I'm… not so fussy."

"Okay, listen," the Master said. "You say we're the bad guys. Okay, we get that. We can deal with that. But you know what else we are?"

"In one big, gay love-fest?"

"Nah, that's just Jim and Seb."

"Is this really the time?" Seb was, as ever, ignored.

"Nah, see- we're almost kind of like a family," the Master continued. "And it's fucked up in every single sense of the word, and I hate every single one of them more than you've ever hated anyone in your life, and I've tried to kill them _at least_ ten times each-"

"I thought we were only on nine," Jim frowned.

"Yeah- there's an, uh, substance mixed in with your washing powder that you probably shouldn't inhale too deeply."

"Oh, very nice," he said approvingly.

"And they're all bastards and idiots and assholes, and-"

"Time to move on," Seb suggested.

"Okay, fine. From the ridiculous amount of sitcoms I've watched since Jim's twenty-eighth laptop password change, I've picked up the impression that families protect each other." He paused. "Or maybe I got that from 'Lilo and Stitch'. I forget."

"Either way," Jim continued for him, "doesn't change a thing. The facts remain that you are _not _taking Loki, and you are _not _going to tell anybody our location."

"No?" she said. "And why not?"

"Because you really should pay more attention to your surroundings," Seb said from behind her. Her head bounced off the brick wall with a dull 'thud' and she crumpled in his arms, leaving a bloody smear on his shirt.

"You've got red on you," Jim said helpfully. Seb scowled.

"Do we leave London?" the Master said.

"Guess so," Jim replied sullenly. He _liked _London.

"Just for a little while," Seb suggested. "It sounded like she's working alone for now, but she knows about us. It's only a matter of time before she approaches Holmes and Watson."

"Or until the Doctor joins them," the Master lobbed in.

"Exactly. And I don't really fancy taking on Team Angel Princess _just _yet."

"You're probably right," Jim said reluctantly. "All right, go get your stuff together. Don't steal too much. We've established that Sebby doesn't know how to share."

"Uh, guys?" Seb called, arms full of unconscious redhead. "What do I do with this?"

"I don't know, put it in the recycling bin?" the Master suggested.

"We'll dump her a few miles out," Jim said. "We'll be long gone by the time she wakes up."

"Thank you," Loki said stiffly as the Master and Jim passed him.

"What, you believed that drivel?" Jim said.

"Give me a break," the Master agreed.

"Affection, the super-villain way," Seb murmured. They were saved from any further awkwardness by the lights blinking back on as electricity flooded the wires. Once over the shock of sudden brightness, they all moved at once.

"I call dibs on the iPhone," the Master declared, near-on sprinting back into the house.

"I will pull your bones through your skin if you touch my Angry Birds game," Loki said at the same time, cape swishing as he rushed inside.

"I don't know if any of you noticed," Seb said, gesturing with the body in his arms, "but I'm currently kind of incapacitated."

"Quit bitching," Jim said. "I'll help you drag her to the car."

"Cheers."

"They're all gone, so let's hear it," Jim said as he took the woman's legs and swung the body up into the air. "Why choose Johnny boy and not the main attraction?"

"Bite me."

"Aww, come on. Why won't you tell me?"

"It made sense nine months ago. Now it's only leftover bad feelings."

"Fine, so why did you hate him so much _then_?"

"Thought it was obvious," Seb grunted as they hauled Romanoff into the boot of the car.

"Hardly," Jim argued. "You two have more in common than anything else."

"Shut it."

"You gotta admit it. You're both ex-military, you both lived with a genius- don't look at me like that- you both had a significant other 'kill themselves'-"

"Yeah," Seb said, shutting the boot lid with a neat 'click'. "And his came back for him."

Jim had the good grace to be quiet after that.

* * *

"I'll give you £500 for Mayfair."

"I'll give you £500 to shut up and quit bugging me."

"Really?"

"No, of course not."

The Master scowled. "I hate this game."

"Time to go!" Jim said cheerily. It was the very early hours of the morning, them having decided that the cover of darkness was their friend.

"Who's driving first?" Seb asked.

"You are," Jim and Loki answered as one.

"How come?"

"I don't understand Midgardian vehicles," Loki said.

"I can't be bothered," Jim said.

"I offered," the Master said.

"I'll drive," Seb agreed. "Before we go, can everybody please put back whatever they've taken before I have to do so using force?"

"I'm taking the charger," Loki said immediately. "I will actively choke you to death before I surrender it."

"Fine," Seb said tiredly.

"If he's keeping that, I want to keep something," the Master griped.

"What did you take?"

The Master unzipped the bag he was using to carry his things in. "Some money, some bank cards, some belts, some clothes, a vase, a saucepan, a wine bottle, a wine _glass_-"

"Are those my fucking socks?"

"I tried to be as thorough as I could."

"What did you plan to do with this stuff?"

"Sell it. Burn it. Make sure you couldn't have it."

"Shut up and get in the goddamn car," Seb snapped.

"You know this isn't the end, right?" Jim checked with Seb as they climbed into the vehicle they'd 'acquired'. "If you really think _running away_-"

"It's not running away," he disputed. "We're just-"

"Lying low, yeah, you said," Jim said, rolling his eyes.

"We should have killed Romanoff when we had the chance," the Master said.

"And piss off the Super Rainbow Squad before it even forms?" Seb said. "Nah. Hopefully she'll get a concussion, though. Forget who we are or where we were."

"That'd be nice," Jim said wistfully. "But you make a good point. Something big's coming, Sebby. Sherlock and John and the Doctor and every single Avenger this time around."

"I know," he said grimly, climbing into the driver's seat.

"It's going to be so much fun."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Are you worried?"

"I'm more worried about the prospect of driving for hours with a car full of psychopathic, hyperactive, overgrown and weaponised children." As if on cue, there was a screech from the backseat.

"Is that _razor wire?_" the Master was demanding. "Where the fuck did you even get razor wire?"

"I did warn you not to touch my Peggle game, did I not?"

"You might have a point," Jim said. He stared out the window as Seb started the engine. "The trees here still haven't changed colour," he noted. "Maybe it's a sign."

"Or maybe they're evergreens, you dickhead."

"… or that," he agreed. And with that, they pulled away.


	8. A Small Portion Of Hell Breaks Loose

"I hate Halloween." Seb scowled the comment at a line of witches' hats as though they had been placed there for absolutely no other reason than to ruin his day.

"Why aren't I shocked?" Jim muttered, steering him past the display.

"Because he hates everything," the Master supplied. "Especially fun things."

"How is having grubby little shits pound on my door and demand sweets 'fun'?" Seb challenged. "If I started handing out stuff to random kids any other day of the year, I'd be on an FBI watchlist by now."

"I'm pretty sure you already are."

"Yeah, but I'd be on a way less fun one."

"I like Halloween," Jim shrugged. He liked _all _the holidays, but Halloween held a special place in his heart.

"I bet you're that guy that hides razor blades in apples," the Master said.

"What's this holiday?" Loki asked. He had been examining the various wigs and costumes hung up with a look somewhere between curiosity and disgust. It was a facial expression unique to Loki, and one he had spent a great length of time perfecting.

"_I _know what it is," the Master said smugly.

"Would you like a prize?"

"It's some stupid kid's holiday," Seb said. "They dress up as monsters and witches and eat way too much chocolate."

"Why?"

"_Fun,_" Jim insisted again.

"No, I mean where do the origins lie?"

Jim and Seb glanced at each other.

"It's…"

"A Pagan thing."

"Nah, isn't it Christian?"

"It doesn't _sound _very Christian."

"I swear I heard about some Day Of The Dead thing."

"Wasn't that a horror movie?"

"I think everything is eventually."

"You mean you don't know," Loki said.

"Sure we know. Bla bla, commercialism, bla bla, Americanisation, bla bla, making shit-tons of money from a meaningless calendar date," Seb answered. "Same as all the other holidays."

"You're not getting a Christmas present this year," Jim admonished him. All the same, Loki seemed satisfied with the answer, and so they moved on.

Jim grabbed a few bottles of beer from the shelf, looked back at where the Master was attempting to balance a large toy spider on Loki's head without alerting him, and steadily began to transfer the entire display to the basket.

"Gonna need a bigger basket," he thought aloud, but was temporarily distracted by Loki threatening to drag the Master to the household cleaning section and pour several bottles of bleach down his throat. Glancing back at the basket, something caught his eye. He looked closer and frowned.

"Who put Diet Coke in here?" Jim asked, delicately extracting the offending item and holding it out in much the same way somebody might handle finding a dead rat in the salad bowl.

"Me," the Master said casually.

"Did you wanna go ahead and get Heat magazine and lube at the same time?" Seb asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Stereotyping is _wrong_, Sebastian," he said severely. "I have the right to drink whatever I want."

"Yeah, and I have the right to mock you for it."

"Oh, and my lifestyle choices are the worrying ones here? I'm not the person who once ate four Pot Noodles in a _day._"

"Hey, those things are good."

"You know, you remind me of my brother," Loki said to Seb.

"That can't be a good thing."

"You both eat far too much and think far too little."

"Just because you never eat anything," Seb scoffed.

"Of course I do," Loki said.

"I bet he eats things like sushi," Jim said.

"I bet he drinks soy chai lattes."

"I bet he photosynthesises."

"As much as you know I adore these discussions, we'd ought to hurry up," Loki said, glancing at the clock hung on the wall.

"You can always wait in the car," Seb said.

"Please," Jim added. He had only meant to stop at the shop for five minutes, to pick up some things that they needed to make the journey bearable, but everybody else had climbed out the car before he had time to say no. After that, he 'said' no very repeatedly and very loudly, but to little effect.

"I've been sat in that _thing _for over five hours," Loki said, screwing his face up.

"Hey," Seb said, offended. "Be nice about my car."

"Why?"

"Because it's mine!"

"So is Jim, but you don't mind us abusing _him,_" the Master said.

"Should I be offended by that?" Jim wondered out loud.

"I'd go with yes," Loki suggested. "As a general philosophy."

They'd been on the road for nearly a week now, though they'd barely gotten anywhere. Jim supposed it didn't help that Seb insisted on taking detours and hidden routes, or that they'd had to stop for more bandages when Loki's face was still bleeding after forty minutes, or that they had finally consented to let the Master drive after two solid days of whining. At least they now had the reassurance of knowing the airbags worked.

"Fine, so- what?" Jim said, moving a pack of crisps to the side. "Who put a pack of rubber spiders here?"

"Who do you think?" The Master was beaming.

"Why?" Jim asked despairingly.

"Mostly for the look on your face."

"Put them _back,_" Jim said, shoving the packet at him. The Master started tapping the fingers of one hand against the cabinet, and Jim consented to giving it a few seconds of attention. Recently, the Master was tiring of insulting Jim verbally and had begun to look into less conventional methods. The most recent message was apparently 'HAHA MADE YOU LOOK'. Jim closed his eyes and reminded himself that vicious and public mass-murder was not the kind of thing their opponents tended to overlook.

"Alright," he said, opening his eyes and turning back to the basket. "Let's see what we have here. Chewing gum?"

"Mine," the Master said.

"_No,_" he said, putting it back on the shelf. "Paper clips?"

"Also mine."

"Also no_._ Porn?"

"Mine," Seb said brazenly.

"Nope," Jim replied matter-of-factly, dropping the magazine and kicking it under the shelf. "Pud- what the fuck? Who the fuck got _pudding_?"

"That would be myself," Loki said.

"I don't- no. No, we are not having this discussion."

"Glad you agree," the Master cut in smoothly. "Here, let me take that off your hands." Lifting the basket away from Jim, he sauntered over to the counter. Jim watched in something like shock as the Master pulled out a horribly familiar-looking credit card, merrily typed in Jim's PIN number and asked if he could also purchase two packs of cigarettes and twenty-eight scratch cards.

"Bullets would probably be fastest," Seb recommended, coming up behind Jim. "You could always go for stomach wounds if you wanted to make things really nasty for us.

"Involving guns can cause an awful lot of fuss," Loki warned. "And there's always the hassle of reloading."

"Knives?" Seb suggested. A middle-aged woman was talking to the cashier now, as the Master whistled to himself and tapped out what Jim believed to be the Morse code to 'SATAN IS RISING' on the counter.

"Hmm, I think not. Messy."

"So what's your professional opinion?"

"I would go with snapping necks."

"But what if the other customers got to you first? Held you down?"

"I'd snap _their _necks too."

"And if they pin your arms down?"

"Snap their arms."

"I really don't think you've thought this through."

"Sir, I'm not comfortable with your purchasing this much alcohol at one time," the cashier said in a misguided attempt at an authoritative tone.

"Yes, but you've already sold me it," the Master explained patiently.

"My manager has raised certain concerns." He shifted awkwardly as the woman behind him folded her arms. The Master leant in and read the boy's name badge.

"Hello, Jeremy," he said.

"Uh, hello," Jeremy said.

"How old are you, Jeremy?"

"Nineteen."

"Nineteen, Jeremy?"

"Yes. Sir, I-"

"I just wanted to make sure I had that right. I have got that right, yes, Jeremy? You're nineteen." He paused. "So young."

"Young?"

"Your whole life ahead of you. Such a shame."

"Sorry- what's a shame?"

"Jeremy," Jeremy's supervisor warned.

"Right. Um, yes, sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to _insist-_"

"I am going to walk away now, Jeremy. I am going to take my purchases- and I do mean _all _of my purchases- and I am going to walk away, and if you have any sense, you're going to let me. I hope that's clear enough for you."

Jeremy looked hopelessly at his supervisor. "Janet?" he bleated. She frowned, flicked a hand, and threw him across the shop.

Jim blinked as the boy crunched into the automatic doors with an almighty thud. The glass shuddered but held, and Jeremy's unconscious body slid to the floor. The doors slid open with a happy pinging sound.

"They're a little late," Seb murmured next to him. The woman blinked, and when she looked at them again, her eyes were solid black.

"Nice contacts," the Master said.

"Try again," she said, in a voice that seemed to suggest that there was something else working her vocal cords. Or maybe that she simply had a bad smoking habit. It was hard to tell.

"Then my, this _is_ embarrassing. Allow me to assure you your medical condition is in no way disturbing or kind of icky."

The woman laughed. "I _love _the tough ones," she hissed. "Adrenaline makes for a beautiful marinade."

"I'm gonna have to pass up on being eaten," Seb said. "I think I'd have to take my jacket off somewhere in the process, and it's kinda cold today. You understand."

"I'm not going to eat you," she told them, "but you're not leaving." The doors slid shut with a noise as ominous as pinging can be. Jim was unperturbed; he had been threatened by more impressive things than automatic doors.

"If you aren't going to eat us, why use the marinade reference?" the Master objected. "You can't make a threat and not carry it through."

"That's like, the first thing they teach on Supernanny," Seb agreed.

"Allow me to reword, then. I prefer the tough ones because you tend to scream more when you eventually crack," she hissed. Loki, who appeared to have only just noticed what was going on, strolled over to observe.

"And if we don't crack?" Jim said.

"You will," she crooned. "Once I've sliced your eyes to ribbons and snapped your lungs from their cords and yanked your still-beating heart from your chest, you will."

"Wait, you want us to scream _after_ you've pulled our lungs out?" Seb frowned.

"I-"

"That sounds pretty unlikely. You ever seen an anatomy textbook?"

"That's-"

"Check yourself before you wreck yourself," he finished sternly.

Jim glanced over at him. "No?" Seb said.

"Really no," Jim confirmed.

"I will kill you all the same," the demon hissed.

"Why?"

"I don't need a reason."

"If you don't have a solid motivation, I don't know how you expect to be taken seriously," Loki said.

"I'm going to-"

"Yes, you keep threatening and it's all very nice and scary- but so far there's been very little actual violence. It's just not professional," the Master said, shaking his head sadly. "If you'd like some tips, Jim runs a 'Threats' class on Wednesday afternoons."

The demon's head whipped from the Master to Loki, unsure which one to deal with first. She chose Loki.

"My _motivation,_" she hissed, "is that I am a _demon. _I'm old- not as old as you, Trickster- but I spent five hundred Earth years in Hell, being ripped apart to be put back together to be ripped apart. I have more than enough _motivation._"

There was a moment of silence as they all took this in.

"See, now _that's_ better," Loki said.

"We can work with that," Jim agreed. With a roar of rage, the demon slammed her hand out and sent Jim crashing into one of the Halloween displays. She lunged across the counter, reaching a clawed hand out for Loki. As her fingers closed around his throat, he vanished and she toppled forwards.

"I don't think so," said a bored voice from one of the aisles, and the sceptre blasted a ragged hole through the possessed woman's back. She twitched, wound steaming slightly. Nobody spoke, and then the Master's voice rang out.

"Am I the only one who finds it incredibly annoying when Loki does something right?"

The woman flipped over, arched what was left of her back and began to scream. Something black and ominous-looking began to pour out of her mouth.

"And world order has been restored," the Master said.

"Running?" Seb asked, glancing over at Jim.

"Running," he agreed, as the Master hurled a six-pack of beer through the glass of the resolutely unopening doors. They all fell through the gap and sprinted to the car, Seb stamping on the accelerator as Loki slammed the door shut. Behind them, black smoke was pouring through the gap in the glass.

"You know, my life was normal_,_" Seb said to nobody in particular as he drove. "I had a job. Like, a real job. No stabbing or anything."

"I bet you hated it," Jim said. The smoke was twisting with energy as it rushed after them, and it was gaining ground fast.

"Not the point!" Seb said as he took the corner hard, tires screeching. "I had a job, and a flat, and I could go outside without worrying about Holmes and Watson, or the formation of The League Of Righteous Bastards, or _fucking demons trying to eat my fucking face off._"

"In her defence, she did specify we wouldn't be eaten," Loki said. He and the Master were kneeling on the back seat, peering out the back window.

"So that there's a demon?" the Master asked, pointing at the swirling stream of shadow.

"I'd fucking say so, wouldn't you?" The car was now doing around ninety miles an hour. The roads around here were abandoned, and a pretty big part of Jim thought that attempting this in a busy London street would be _excellent._

"The priests mentioned demons," Loki said. "The sham priests, that is. The two brothers."

"Did they happen to mention how to kill them?" the Master asked.

"Not as such."

"Why aren't I shocked?" Seb spat, treating a speed bump as a takeoff ramp.

"They tried throwing holy water at Loki," Jim said thoughtfully.

"Is that what that was?" Loki said.

"What did you _think_ it was?"

"Some comment on personal hygiene or suchlike, it was all very unclear. Does this mean this 'holy water' can kill demons?"

"Seems legit," the Master said. Seb took the next left turn so hard that they all slammed into the windows. The smoke was still behind them. It seemed to be taking this personally.

"Fine, great! Just grab the vat of holy water I keep in the boot," Seb snarled. "In case you hadn't notice, we aren't exactly fucking saintly. How else can you take down a demon?"

"I'm Googling it," Loki offered, tapping away on the phone, "but all I've found so far requires them to be in human form. Perhaps attacking the host wasn't the best idea."

"Thank you _so _fucking much!"

"Seb, I think we need to get you some blood pressure tablets," the Master said. "Go on, Loki. What's the usual way to deal with sentient black smoke trying to possess you?"

"Getting possessed."

"Ah."

"Any better plans?" Jim asked.

"Keep driving," Seb said grimly.

And so they did.

* * *

If it was possible for a car to look exhausted, Seb's did. It was probably the first recorded case of a Fiat Panda outrunning a demon, and the car didn't look like it'd be smiling for its Guinness Book of World Records photo.

The village they'd wound up in was the kind of place, Jim thought, that people from other countries probably pictured when they thought of 'England'- green grass, thatched roofs, a general feeling of friendliness. In contrast, he'd found that British people tended to envision England as a series of council estates, busily respiring reality television and takeaways into concrete and teen pregnancy.

They found a B&B relatively quickly and knocked on the door. A kind-looking, well-dressed woman in her sixties or so opened the door to a man in a very expensive suit with a fair amount of dried blood on his face, a man in a battered jacket and jeans whose face suggested he'd punch the first person to try and make eye contact, a man in yet another suit with an alarmingly wide smile, and a tall, quiet figure dressed in a tight black and green leather. She let them in, talked them through some basic guidelines, etiquette and payment, showed them to their lodgings and went to lie down in a darkened room for a bit.

Seb went off to grab a few potentially life-saving things from the local corner shop while the others found their rooms. Jim had only just thrown his bag onto the floor when a vicious pounding came at his door. He debated ignoring it, debated pushing a wardrobe in front of it for when whoever it was inevitably tried kicking it down, and then decided it was all too much effort.

Jim leant against the door. "Who is it?" he sung.

"There's something wrong with our room," the Master began immediately.

"I don't care."

"I mean it."

"So do I."

"Jim, there's only one bed."

"It's a double bed."

"Exactly!"

"She asked if a double room was fine, and you said yes. What did you think she meant?"

"Two beds! Double the beds! One single bed, doubled!"

"That's what it is. They're just pushed the two beds into one."

"Swap with me," he demanded.

"You want to trade Seb for Loki?"

"I want to trade my room for yours."

"Sure. It does have a nicer view of the landscape, I guess. It looks great from the bed."

"Which is?"

Jim opened the door to let the Master see inside. "A double."

"I'm going to walk back outside and let that demon kill me."

"Don't you make a mess of the nice woman's lawn," Jim said, shutting the door in his face. You had to take your amusement where you could when attempting to avoid murder by creatures of Hell.

Personally, Jim wasn't _hating _the situation. He didn't like not knowing how to kill the thing, and he didn't like not knowing where it was, but the mere fact that he was technically battling a _demon_ seemed a significant step up on the ladder. It was a lot more fun than drug dealing.

Twenty minutes later, Seb returned holding a bulging carrier bag. "I come bearing gifts, oh bloodied one," he greeted Jim.

"Huh?" Jim touched a hand to his forehead and pouted. "I suppose I forgot I was telekinetically thrown across a room."

"I can see why that'd slip your mind." Seb removed one of the largest containers of salt Jim had ever seen from the bag and twisted the lid off.

"Sebby, what _are _you doing?" Jim asked as Seb began to pour a thick line of salt in front of the door.

"Internet says this is a good way to keep demons out," he grunted. "Internet said a lot of things, actually, but this one showed up a lot. Holy water too, but the priest caught me trying to siphon some off into an empty Sprite bottle and I don't think he was impressed."

"So any more ideas on how we kill a demon?" Jim asked. "Or at least make it cry a little?"

"None. 'least, nothing we can do. It's all 'special' this and 'only one of its kind' that. Apparently Loki found an exorcism, though, so there's that."

"That's gotta be a start," Jim agreed as Seb moved to salt the windowsill. There was a rapping at their door. Careful to preserve the salt line, Jim opened it.

"Hello, boys," she said. "I thought I'd- oh my, what's going on here?"

"Salting the windows, ma'am," Seb replied, finishing off the line on the window.

"I can see that, dear- but, er, what for?"

"It's a big part of our religion," Seb said seriously, putting the lid back onto the salt and placing it on the bedside table.

"Still, it's awfully messy," she fretted. "It's going to get into my carpet."

"We'll clean it up."

"That might be best," she said kindly.

"Sure thing," Seb said smoothly. "But before I forget, there's something wrong with the lamp in here. D'you mind looking at it for us?"

"Of course not," she said. "Right after you boys have cleared up this mess, I'll be right in."

"Why not now?" Seb asked, and something clicked in Jim's brain.

"Yeah, why not now?" he added. "It won't take much time."

"I'm sure, pet, but I have a few other things to be getting on with. I'll be up in ten minutes or so, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course," Jim smiled. She smiled too, then turned and left.

"Bye bye!" Jim said sweetly, shutting the door. They listened very closely until they were sure she was at the bottom of the staircase.

"I am done," Seb declared. "I am one-hundred percent done. I am _five_-hundred percent done. I don't have numbers- in fact, I don't have _words. _There are no words to describe how thoroughly through with this shit I am."

"I don't know, you were doing pretty well with 'done'."

"Jim, a demon has us trapped in her _house_."

"Technically, it's the host body's house."

"Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Are _you_?" Jim crossed his arms. "What's gotten into you lately? You used to be unshakeable, Sebastian Moran. Nothing fazed you. You _should _be thinking that this is the most fun you've had in years and wanting to shoot things, not wanting out."

That seemed to cross some boundary in Seb's head, and he whirled around to face Jim.

"Okay, asshole," he hissed, "three things. One: I like life. I spent a pretty long time _not _liking life, but now I do, and I don't much want it to end because of some idiotic decision you bastards made. Fair?"

"I guess," Jim grumbled.

"Two," he continued. "I like _this _life. I kind of hated being normal, and I kind of love the drug deals and the stealing and the stabbing. If there was a way to tear this demon into teeny-tiny pieces, I would be all over that_._"

"Of course," Jim agreed.

"But there's not, and it's the same thing with the New Justice Squad lurking on the horizon. I don't much wanna piss any of them off, 'cause all it's gonna do is get in our way. You get it now? I complain about your stupid and dangerous shit when it means we might get killed before we have time to do other, _better, _stupid and dangerous shit. C'mon, Jim," he said in exasperation. "If I wanted out, don't you think I'd be gone?"

"And three?"

"One of us has to make sure none of you stupid, stupid children go sticking sharp objects into electrical sockets. That's apparently me for now. It was you a few months ago, so who knows? Maybe it's a rotating position."

"When the Master becomes the rational one out of the four of us, I vote we lie down and die."

"Agreed."

"Still," Jim said, "_you_ were the one who told me to loosen up. Same applies to you. You're allowed to have fun, you know."

Seb barked out a surprised laugh. "Wait, you don't think I am? I get to fight demons _and _insult you. It's basically Christmas."

"Halloween, actually," Jim corrected. "And not for a few weeks yet."

"Shut up and pass the salt." Jim did so and Seb pulled out his gun.

"Like I said," Seb said, "I don't mind lying low when it's the right decision. But the demon knows we're here, the demon _is _here, and defence is getting boring now. I kinda prefer attacking." He dumped the bullets out of his gun. "Can't be all that difficult to make a salt bullet."

Jim glanced towards the bed. "You know, we have a couple of hours to-"

"No."

"I didn't even-"

"Still no. You want to tell the brats what's going on?"

"Not even slightly," Jim said, pulling out his mobile and dialling. "You think the demon's got to them already?"

Seb shrugged and kept working on the bullets. "I gave them the salt, so with any luck they'll have protected themselves well enough to keep her out."

And, as if the universe had been waiting for those exact words, there was a muffled shattering of glass. Jim looked out of the window in time to see Loki land painfully on the grass, followed shortly by the Master.

"What is it about those two and windows?" Jim sighed. Below, the woman/demon herself hurtled out of the window and landed on the ground below. She straightened up and snarled.

"I'd rather she was trying to kill them than us," Seb commented.

"They can have a lot more things broken before they pass out," Jim agreed.

"Can they even die?" Seb asked, slotting the last of the bullets into his gun as the demon telepathically threw the Master to the ground. He seemed to be having a fairly good time.

"I don't think _they_ know."

Seb pushed the window open slightly and angled the gun out. "This isn't even a sniper rifle," he complained. "It's really not the right gun. At all. _And _I've only got three bullets," Seb said.

"Then be a dear and don't miss too much."

Jim's phone vibrated angrily against the floor where he'd dropped at it. He glanced at the screen.

_**Incoming call from  
'The One That Cries Too Much'  
Accept | Decline**_

"Are you fucking kidding?" he demanded, turning back to the window. Sure enough, as the Master was trying his hardest to peel the hands of the demon from his throat, Loki was stood a few feet away with his phone to his ear. Jim supposed he should be thankful it wasn't Angry Birds. He hit 'accept'.

"Your call is very important to us," Jim answered. "Please hold the line."

"I don't understand what you mean by that, and I don't have time to humour it," Loki snapped. "I've found a diagram of what's known as a 'Devil's Trap'. I don't know how effective it will be, but it says that once a demon is lured into it, it cannot get out. It may be worth a try."

"So you draw it and then... what? How do we persuade a demon to wander in?"

"Improvise. I'm sending you the picture now."

And so, midway through a battle with a more or less unkillable being of Hell, Loki stood and waved his phone above his head to try and find signal. It wasn't a typical fighting style, but then again, they weren't typical people.

"Got it," Jim said once the message had sent. "We'll see what we can do. Meanwhile, you two fend it off."

"Thank you for that utterly indispensable advice."

"Do you really have time to be sarcastic?"

"Do you? Get drawing." Loki ended the call and turned to face the demon. She looked up from where she was repeatedly slamming the Master's head against the ground and grinned.

"Yes, your highness," Jim murmured, and began to rummage around for a pen or something.

"Wouldn't say that if I were you," Seb advised. "He'd probably take it seriously."

The demon was currently using her powers to pin Loki against a large tree. The _real_ Loki then stepped out behind the demon and drove the spiked end of his sceptre through her back, his hologram silently flickering away. She howled and writhed, held in place by the large blade. Luckily, there weren't any villagers around to see what was probably not an average afternoon occurrence.

Jim gave up trying to scribble on the floor with a half-empty biro and threw his hands up in frustration. "It's no good, I'm gonna have to go find something else. How the fuck am I supposed I draw a Devil's Trap on _carpet_?"

"Improvise."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Seb aimed and the bullet ripped through the demon's skull. It screamed in pain and fury and turned towards them, the sceptre shooting out of its flesh and across the grass. "Uh, improvise quickly."

* * *

"You can't wait in there forever, boys," the demon crowed. She'd missed Jim by seconds and had been waiting outside the door ever since.

"Forever," Jim said, pulling a face. "Who'd want that? Forever is far too long to do something like stay alive."

"Luckily for you, it won't be an issue much longer," she snarled.

"Prove it," he said.

The demon yanked the door open yet again, and yet again the salt stayed in place. Jim had never been so grateful for outward-opening doors.

"I don't know what you're expecting," Jim said as she glowered at them, hatred seething in her all-black eyes. "The line was still there the last five times you did that."

She smiled at them, the smile of the sweet old lady she was riding around in, then turned and walked away. _That can't be good._

A few seconds later she returned, clutching something in her hand. Seb and Jim looked at it, and then at each other, and then back to the demon's grinning face.

"Well, fuck," Seb said evenly.

The demon turned the vacuum cleaner on and calmly hoovered up a small portion of the salt line.

"You missed a spot," Jim said, but she was already dropping the vacuum and lunging towards him. Jim ducked and, with the kind of coordination that comes from spending far too long working together, Seb fired the gun. The salt bullet grazed Jim's hair and found its way into the demon's left eye. Seb shot again almost instantly and the other bullet embedded itself in her right eye. Jim and Seb took advantage of her confusion- and the host's small frame- to grab her.

"Don't smudge the lines!" Jim shouted as they heaved the thrashing demon towards the Devil's Trap. She regained enough control to send them both flying into the walls and, as they dropped her, she fell directly into the middle of the trap. Sensing her powers draining, she froze in shock.

"Now, the website we consulted didn't specify what to draw the trap in," Jim said, picking himself up. "I figured tomato sauce would work as well as anything else."

"A ketchup Devil's Trap," Seb agreed, brushing salt off his jeans. "It's a day of firsts." Jim heard footsteps behind him and turned.

"Ladies," the Master acknowledged as he and Loki walked in. "I notice you got to skip out on the hurt-y bit." The pair were both bleeding profusely, but neither seemed to notice or care. In the trap, the demon was ranting away.

"What's she on about now?" Seb frowned. They listened for a moment to what appeared to be a lecture regarding their personality flaws and deepest fears. Jim thought he even heard the phrase 'we're not so different, you and I' at one stage.

"That's lame," Jim said, skin crawling with embarrassment-by-proxy.

"Outdated," the Master agreed, apparently offended at the pathetic quality of the mind games being played. "So exorcism time?"

"One second," Seb said. "Hey, bitch. Why'd you come after us?"

"You escaped me," the demon hissed. "Nobody _ever _escapes me."

"And that's it? That's all?"

"What else could there be?"

"Nothing to worry your ugly little head about," he smiled nastily. "Okay, Loki, do your thing."

Loki tapped at his phone's screen and began. "Regna terrae," he began. "Cantate Deo… psa- sal- psalli-"

"Psallite," the Master said, peering around Loki's shoulder.

"You speak Latin?"

"I speak everything."

"Heh," Loki said, with the kind of pure dislike usually reserved for People Who Mention Thor.

"Let me do it."

"I don't think so," Loki said, pride leaving no room for deliberation. "Psallite," he continued. "Dom-in-o-qui fertis super… caelum. Caeli ad Orientem. Ecce… dabit… voci… Suae?"

"Jesus Christ," Seb muttered.

"Him too," Loki added.

"Would you _please _let him do it?" Jim said. "I'd like it if this demon could go to Hell before I die of old age and make it there first."

Loki sullenly turned the screen towards the Master, who tried to take the phone from him. Loki was decidedly uncooperative.

"I need to look at it," the Master said.

"Look with your eyes, not with your hands."

"Don't be a child, let me hold it."

"Absolutely not."

"Something about sharp objects and sockets?" Jim muttered out the corner of his mouth.

"Forget it. I'll run the bath and provide the toaster myself," Seb muttered back. Over in the circle, the demon was still ranting away.

"_Fine,_" Loki said resentfully, pushing the phone into the Master's hands. He read out the exorcism completely fluently but almost lazily: one hand on the phone, the other resting on the table, tapping out 'F-O-R-G-E-T-W-H-A-T-I-S-A-I-D-B-E-F-O-R-E-S-A-T-A-N-C-A-N-S-U-C-K-M-Y-'

It was quite a long exorcism.

Before he could finish his message, the woman suddenly vomited up copious amounts of black, writhing smoke. She promptly passed out. The shadows thrashed before sinking into the floor to regions unknown: possibly Hell, possibly Australia. Jim didn't care all that much about either.

"Well," the Master said, tossing the phone at Loki who scrabbled to catch it. Scowling, he tucked it away. "That certainly was eventful."

"Happy early Halloween, everyone," Jim said. "Didn't expect things to get quite that realistic."

"I say we go and get _astronomical_ quantities of alcohol to celebrate," the Master said. "That is, if Mother Sebby will let us come out of the shadows for long enough."

"I got to shoot a demon three times," Seb said, somewhat dreamily. "You can do what you want."

"I hate to interrupt," Loki said, "but I believe we have a problem."

Jim sighed, but then brightened up. At least things weren't boring.

"Just for something different," he said. "Go on, what's trying to kill us now?"

"I believe _they'd _like a go," Loki said, looking out the window. The others gathered behind him and followed his gaze. Assembled on the grass below were at least thirty, if not fifty townspeople. They all looked very wholesome, and very happy, and they all had huge, black eyes and bloodthirsty smiles.

"… did I mention how done I was?" Seb said. "Because I am so, _so _fucking done."

"Gentlemen," a voice said from behind them. They slowly turned around to find a strange man stood in the doorway. He was smiling.

"You may have noticed your… situation," he continued. He waved a hand at the window, before pushing both hands into his pockets. "It's not exactly ideal, is it?" He looked, to Jim, a man in his element.

"Who the fuck are you?" Seb asked warily.

"Name's Crowley," the man said, rocking on his heels. "I'd like to make a deal."

* * *

**A/N: Ahh, t****oo many fandoms, too few names.** Just to clarify: we're still talking SPN here. 

**... for now, at least.**

**Much love x**


	9. Please Stand By (For The King Of Hell)

**A/N- I'm so sorry for the delay in updates, and even more sorry because this chapter is (by my standards) unusually short. I've had a lot of other things going on- both fanfic and real world- and I haven't been able to give this the time I've wanted. Please know, though, that this WILL continue to be updated. No doubt.**

**Also, I have yet another thing to apologise for: the Crowley confusion. It was intended to be Supernatural's Crowley. I'm really sorry for the confusion, and I hope nobody's disappointed or anything. Thank you so much for your continued support; it means the world to me.**

* * *

Jim, as it so happened, was a madman in a nice suit. He had thought that that made him unique; this belief took something of a denting when he met the Master. He had recovered from the brief setback, however, only to run smack-bang into _yet another _suit-clad madman, who was apparently able to control hoards of demons to boot. How was Jim supposed to compete with that? He felt a little like a busty teenage girl boasting she played video games, only to be confronted with a hundred replies of 'yeah, me too, and I beat your ass on level twenty-four'.

"Just for clarification," Seb said after some time had passed. "Is this the kind of deal where we sit down and negotiate and everybody comes away happy, or the kind where we sit down and nod or we come away minus several fingers?"

"The first, of course," the man said, seemingly affronted at the very idea. Jim silently took index of the half-filled salt container on the windowsill. "Unless, that is, the latter is how you'd prefer to play it. I never know what's in with you kids."

Loki snorted. Crowley's eyes flickered over to him. "Something funny?"

"Your terminology," Loki supplied. "_Kids. _I'm not quite sure you understand who you're talking to."

Crowley stepped back and looked him up and down. "Gothic Disney princess?"

"You know, I think I like you," the Master said as Loki glowered.

"I see how it is," Crowley sighed. "Okay, everyone above the age of- oh, I don't know, three hundred- raise a hand."

Crowley wriggled his fingers in the air, and some unknown force compelled both the Master and Loki to do the same. It could have been demonic influence, it could have been mind control; Jim suspected stupidity.

"Suspected as much," Crowley said. "Hanging around with two normals, though, that's interesting. Some kind of green card scheme?"

"Is he talking about us?" Seb asked Jim, not bothering to lower his voice.

"I think he might just be," Jim said, making eye contact with Crowley. "Can we back up a _teensy _bit here? How did you find us?"

"With contacts like mine, boys, you weren't difficult to find."

"I don't understand. Why were you searching in the first place?" Loki asked. Crowley shrugged.

"A fella's gotta do something with his time."

There was a quiet click, and when Jim looked over, Seb had a gun pointed at Crowley's chest. "Start talking."

"Oh, Sebastian, dearest, you needn't try so hard to impress me." Crowley waved a hand and the gun flew out of Seb's hand and smashed against the wall, breaking into several pieces. Seb, having discovered a situation in which guns were of absolutely no use, had the haunted look of a man whose entire world view has just been shattered.

"So you know his name," Jim commented. "That's interesting."

"I know yours too, James, so don't get jealous. And you, Master." He turned to Loki and faltered. "Thor's brother, that's all I've got."

As much as Jim really, really wanted to see the outcome of a fight between Loki and Creeper In A Suit With An Obviously Fake Accent, he didn't like the idea of aforementioned creeper bringing all of Hell's fury down on them. Or should that be up? It really wasn't the time to debate semantics, and so Jim pressed hastily on.

"His name's Loki," he said. "Of Asgard. Or Jotunheim, he changes his mind fairly regularly."

"Never heard of him," Crowley shrugged. Jim mouthed an only semi-joking 'help me' at Seb. Loki's hand was inching towards the near-fanatical collection of throwing knives he kept on his person, and Jim wasn't sure how many times they could try to kill Crowley before he got bored and returned the favour.

"He nearly destroyed New York," Jim continued, hoping it might bolster Loki's self-esteem long enough to prevent him from doing something even more stupid than usual. "Brought down eighty people in two days."

"He's tough and shit," Seb supplied helpfully. Jim shot him a glare which was one sci-fi upgrade away from burning holes in steel.

"Yes, well," Crowley said. "Moving swiftly on: you really were _very _easy to find."

"We heard you the first time," Seb scowled.

"I'm not saying it to piss you off, flower. I'm saying it because if _I _can find you, others can too. You think maybe that's worth your consideration?" Crowley shouted the last words, before instantly snapping back into calm serenity. Jim's niche was definitely getting overcrowded.

"What do you mean by 'others'?" Loki said warily.

"My main points of concern would be the Gruffalo and the mouse."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I do, but I also don't," Seb said.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Crowley spat. "Or, more precisely, the angel that trots around after them."

"Is that 'angel' in a moral or literal sense?" Jim asked.

"Arguably, neither. Hold out your arm."

"Yeah, I don't think so," Seb said.

"There are forty-eight demons standing on the lawn. If I wanted you dead, I'd be wearing your vertebra as a cock ring by now. Hold out your arm."

Jim and Seb exchanged a brief look. The Master sauntered past them both, whistling under his breath.

"Can you _not_?" Seb hissed, yanking him back by his collar. The Master shot him an irritated glance and stuck his arm out defiantly.

"Come on, Sebby," he said. "Half the fun in life is letting strange men try and tell you what to do."

"That's the spirit," Crowley said, before pushing the proffered arm aside and yanking the Master close. Crowley pressed a hand to his chest, and the Master frowned.

"That stung," he said, sounding insulted. "If you're going to try and seduce me, you either need to be a little gentler or a _lot_ harder."

"They're sigils, moron," Crowley said, pushing him away and slamming his hands onto Jim and Seb's chests before they could protest. Jim stifled a yelp at what felt like little bursts of flame worming their way past his ribs. Crowley reached out to touch Loki, who held a deterring hand up, already laughing in manner that said 'you _really _don't wish to continue'.

"I don't think that's-"

Crowley placed a bored hand against Loki's chest, who actually did yelp. Jim's day was getting considerably better.

"Sigils?" Seb said, rubbing his chest.

"Protective. It's not just that show-off in a trenchcoat who can doodle in Enochian." The look on Crowley's face appeared to be directly lifted from a B movie about spiteful cheerleaders 'getting even'.

"You know, you say a _lot_ of words, but not many really make sense," the Master said. "Could you explain it one more time, for the slow kids in the class?"

"Story of my life," Crowley muttered. "Fine. Listen. A while ago, you two tangled with a duo known as the Winchester brothers. Name ring a bell?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure? One's stupidly tall with shaggy hair and cow eyes, and the other looks like he stepped out of a male modelling magazine and then watched his kitten get stamped on."

"Do they sometimes dress as priests?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"Fabulous. Then I take it you're aware of the amalgamation of the previously mentioned knuckleheads with the Avengers initiative, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson _and _the man known as 'the Destroyer of Worlds.'"

"Don't you go doing that. His ego doesn't need inflating," the Master warned. "It's bad enough as it is."

"Says the man who calls himself 'the Master'," Jim objected.

"We're aware," Loki told Crowley tightly. "They're nothing we cannot handle."

"Clearly. Which is why you're rattling across the highways in a tin can rather than ruling the galaxy," Crowley said. "Not exactly potent for the man who would be God. I lied before, Loki- of course I know who you are."

"Not sure I buy that," Seb said.

"You should," Crowley said, addressing them all now. "Trust me, Sebby, I do my research properly- none of my information comes with a 'citation needed' label. I know all about your little gang and- more importantly for you- I know about your enemies. I know that, as we speak, Sam and Dean Winchester have touched down in Heathrow airport, and they've brought their angel with them."

"They took an angel on a plane?"

Crowley's face screamed '_don't ask_'. "It's a… complex relationship."

* * *

Meanwhile, several hours away:

"Dean? Dean, wake up."

"I'm awake."

"Barely," Sam snorted.

"No, I am. I totally am. I'm a hunter, Sammy, I don't need sleep."

"Yeah, 'cause that's why- _Dean, open your eyes._"

"I can't help it," Dean snapped, abandoning all pretence. "Our flight left at eight last night and it's now four PM. How did that even happen? Where does the time _go_?"

"You should've slept on the plane," Sam lectured, in the tones of a long-suffering parent who already knows that their teenager is going to reply by slamming their door and emitting some form of screech.

"Oh, right, _sure. _I'll just curl up and dream happy little dreams until our plane falls into the ocean."

"If you'd have let Cas-"

"Sam, we've had this conversation," Dean interrupted. "Cas got back from Purgatory like, a week ago. He's not strong enough."

Sam spread his hands. "Well, he says he is."

"He can say what he wants, but I'll still take a metal death trap over an angel accidentally dropping us off halfway across the Atlantic."

"Where is Cas anyway?"

The answer, it turned out, was stood quietly watching the luggage carousel.

"Cas?"

"Hmm?" Castiel said without looking away.

"… what're you doing?"

"Watching the carousel. It's a fascinating mechanism- clearly inspired by Ouroboros," he added off-handedly. "Does it ever end?"

"Uh, no."

"So you take your luggage while it's still moving?" Castiel frowned. "That seems precarious."

"Mr and Mr Winchester?" a voice behind them said. Dean and Sam turned warily, Dean making sure he was between Castiel and the newcomer.

"Yeah?" Sam said carefully. The man offered a brief but seemingly honest smile.

"My name is Agent Phil Coulson. Come with me, please."

* * *

"Okay, so you're Mr Information Man," the Master said. "We get it, we're all quaking in our boots. But exactly _why _are you taking the time to try to scare us again? You keep trying to talk about deals, but I don't even know what you're pretending to sell me, much less what I'm actually getting."

"How shoddy of me," Crowley said. "I'll get to my point. As you say you're aware, somewhere in London, a group of very powerful, very angry people are coming together. And do you know what's bringing them together?"

"The inability to _stay dead_?" Jim said with some bitterness.

"Amen to that," Crowley and the Master said as one. They glanced at each other before Crowley continued.

"But no," he said. "You."

"You flatter us," Loki grinned.

"Seems that some little birdy told them that you four protozoa had merged into… whatever this new and deeply unsettling life-form is. Apparently, none of them felt it was in the interests of the planet to just sit back and let that happen."

"Okay, the aliens and the assholes I get, but what's with the fake priests?" Seb asked. "We've met them once. Didn't touch a hair on their coiffured heads. Why the fuck do they care what we do?"

"A misguided sense of responsibility, mostly. S.H.I.E.L.D contacted them when they discovered there were demonic powers involved, and they're both too wrapped up in their Messiah complexes to realise it's none of their business."

"Demonic powers?" Seb queried.

"Yours truly," Crowley smirked.

"That's what this is about?" Loki said incredulously. "You wish to _join _us?"

"As far as they're aware, I already have. I thought I'd get ahead of the game, no need to thank me."

"Why us?" Jim said. "I mean, I know we're the shiniest toys in the crèche, but we've never met. I'd never even _heard _of you before today- and trust me, I've heard of everything worth knowing about. What made you decide to swoop in and tag along?"

"I found out what was going on through the grapevine and, as a general rule, I tend to side with anything that's anti-Winchester."

"Enemy of my enemy and all that?" the Master asked.

"Something along those lines, yes. And to be completely honest with you, I have… my own concerns. Just a little something that's slipped out of my grasp, and that I'd quite like back. I think your collective talents could be useful in retrieving it. What do you say?"

There were a few seconds of silence. Crowley grinned expectantly.

"How about fuck off?" Seb said incredulously. Crowley's grin fell.

"You can't be serious."

"You want us to scuttle after you, picking up whatever you drop?" Loki sneered. "Oh, we are _very_ serious."

"I'm not sure you understand what you're going up against here. Trust me, you're going to want a higher calibre of help."

"Ancient alien," the Master said, pointing at himself.

"Demon," Crowley countered.

"Ancient immortal alien _god_," Loki said smugly.

"_King of Hell,_" Crowley said, like he really couldn't believe they weren't getting it.

Seb seemed to weigh things up, before shrugging. "I'm pretty bitchin'."

"I can't believe this," Crowley said. "You should be begging for my help. On your hands and _knees_."

"As much as I like your idea of a good time, it's not happening," Jim said.

"We'll take our chances, thanks," the Master agreed. "Fact is, you're just not pretty enough to hang around with us."

Crowley's mouth actually fell open in outrage at that. "I," he said, "am _stunning_."

"Sure, sure. Head back down the plughole and tell Satan we said hi, yeah?" Seb said. Crowley's mouth opened and closed a few more times, but he didn't seem to know what to say.

"Fine," he said. "Fine. Consider it a sign of my good nature that I don't get the vermin outside to break you into bite-size chunks."

"We'll consider it a sign of something, alright," Seb said.

"Toodles," Jim finished with a pleasant smile. Crowley disappeared with no further comment. Seb and Jim were still unversed enough in teleportation to be taken aback; Loki merely raised an eyebrow; the Master yawned and checked his watch. Seb crossed over to look out the window.

"_Fuck,_" he hissed. The other three gathered behind him to see a mass of black smoke rising into the sky. It hovered in place for a few ominous seconds and then whistled off into the wind, hopefully to somewhere far, far away. When Jim glanced over at Seb, he seemed lost in thought.

"What?" Jim asked.

"Nothing."

"_Sebastian._"

"… Crowley, right?"

"Yeah?" Jim said.

"Crowley? A demon?"

"… yeah?" the Master said.

"Am I seriously the only one getting this?"

"Are you honestly referring to that _terrible _Pratchett and Gaiman book?" a Cockney voice said, and when they looked around, Crowley was back in the room.

"Well, _are_-"

"No."

"No?" Seb said, sounding disappointed.

"_No._" The ferocity on Crowley's face vanished, to be replaced by a look of smugness. "Well, not _quite_."

"Time to go," Jim said cheerily.

"Wait, so was he inspired by you, or-"

"Out!" Jim said again, more firmly this time, reaching for the container of salt on the windowsill. Seb scowled. Crowley scowled. Jim scowled harder than both of them put together, and won that particular show of facial disgust.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Crowley said to Seb. "Another time, maybe." And then he disappeared- this time, for real.

"Was that really necessary?" Seb muttered.

"No fangirling on work hours," Jim scolded Seb, who seemed dangerously close to sulking.

"Can you two please quieten down long enough for us to get out of this _abysmal_ town?" Loki grumbled.

"It's not that bad," the Master said.

"There are forty-eight comatose people on the lawn, about to wake up post-demonic possession."

"It has a windmill."

"Then let's take advantage of the situation," Seb said. "Steal all the salt we can carry."

"That's more like it," Jim nodded, back in the game now. "We should help ourselves to some holy water too, whilst the priest's playing Sleeping Beauty."

"Can you even _enter _a church?" the Master asked, looking at Jim curiously.

"It might burn a little, but I'll cope."

"That's all very well and good in the short term- but what, precisely, do you advise we do next?" Loki asked. "The team we feared as an idea are becoming reality as we speak, and as if that weren't enough, we've just made an enemy of the self-proclaimed King of Hell and everything that lies down there. There is nowhere we can run, nowhere we can hide, and your only idea is to steal _salt_?"

There was a moment or two of contemplative silence.

"… we should get burgers," Seb said.

"Did you even hear what I said?"

"I could go for a burger, actually," the Master nodded.

"Loki, a word of advice," Jim said. "_Don't_ try and be the sensible one. I tried it, Seb tried it, and if you're trying it that means we're one step closer to treating the Master as a responsible adult."

"Exactly," Seb said. "Sure, my _logical _side is curled up in a ball in the corner of my mind crying hysterically, but it's been doing that for weeks now. It's become kinda soothing, actually. Like elevator music."

"I wasn't concerned until _Hell _became involved," Loki argued. "Even in my culture, we know what that means."

"So?"

"Doesn't it seem logical to reconsider our stance?"

"We're fighting demons and mutants here, Loki. There's really not much to be gained in hanging onto logic," the Master said.

"You're an _alien,_" Jim pointed out.

"See, Jim gets it."

Loki seemed to be considering this.

"You may have a point," he said grudgingly. "So, what _do_ you suggest? That we resign ourselves to hanging on and hoping everything works out?"

"No!" Jim said, scandalised. "No_, _we don't. We stay calm, we stay in control, and we do what we do best: _we win_."

It was a powerful moment, lessened only slightly by Loki's phone blaring with the cheerful reminder that it was his move on Draw Something.


End file.
